Imperfect Symmetry
by Roseblade22
Summary: Having destroyed the androids, Mirai Trunks grows restless with his new life of mediocrity. Twenty years in the past, Vegeta grows equally despondent. When the elder Saiyan discovers a technique that can breach dimensional walls and then shows up on Trunks's doorstep nearly dead, the two must work together to confront a sinister, unexpected, and all-too-familiar enemy.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Sad day.

**Author's Note:** This is my first attempt at Dragon Ball Z fanfiction, despite being a fan for over ten years. Shame on me for waiting so long! I hope that everyone will read, enjoy, and review! I often reply to my reviewers at the end of the chapters, so feel free to ask questions or start a conversation with me. Constructive criticism is also appreciated.

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**IMPERFECT SYMMETRY**

**by Roseblade22**

"_If a coin comes down heads, that means that the possibility of its coming down tails has collapsed. Until that moment the two possibilities were equal.__But on another world, it does come down tails. And when that happens, the two worlds split apart."_

-Philip Pullman, _The Golden Compass_

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**PROLOGUE**

_Age 785_

_June 20th_

_Click. Click. Clickity-click._

Trunks cringed every time he heard the noise. It grated on his nerves like razors against his skin. The young Saiyan's brow furrowed in frustration; his nails dug deeply into the edge of the mahogany desk in front of him. Sprawled out on its polished surface were the blueprints for what would become the new Capsule Corporation headquarters. His mother's various etchings littered the vellum, her hastily scrawled handwriting looping across its smooth surface.

_Click. Clickity-click._

Ever since he'd returned from his adventure in the past and destroyed Androids Seventeen and Eighteen a few weeks ago, Trunks had felt restless. He felt as though his entire life he'd spent cautiously holding in half a breath, and now that the threat was gone he was still reluctant to fill his aching lungs. His mother flitting about the compound rambling on about the numerous new additions, rising stocks, and pending patents was not helping his lingering anxiety.

_Click. Click._

Neither did her unbreakable, insufferable habit of clicking her pen every time she worked.

_Clickity-click. Click._

Finally the Saiyan youth spun around his chair. "Mother, would you please stop that?" he asked, only a slight trace of annoyance in his tone.

"Stop what, honey?" his mother replied unknowingly.

Bulma was bent over another desk, studying yet another set of annotated blueprints. She didn't look up over her shoulder to acknowledge his request. The hateful pen was clutched tightly in her hand, her thumb flicking the spring-loaded tip every few seconds. Trunks sighed and approached her. He leaded forward and gently grasped the offending hand, with pen still in place.

"You're doing it again," he sighed.

Bulma spun around, blinked at her son, and then glanced down. "Oh," she grunted, realization spreading across her features. "I'll never break that habit."

"Maybe we can get you a pencil to work with," the young man suggested, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I know you're busy, but I just can't take any more clicking."

"Busy doesn't even begin to cover it," Bulma gushed, her massive smile eclipsing that of her son. "Ever since you destroyed the androids, business has been booming! By the way, have you had a chance to check over the blueprints for the new addition yet?"

Trunks's smile shrunk back. While he'd been feeling restless for what he thought was an entirely senseless reason, his mother had blossomed into the genius CEO of a company that was quickly and single-handedly reviving the world economy. This meant that he was also busy, desperately trying to help her keep up with the massive demand for Capsule Corp products. It meant that there were several dozen production plants being newly constructed or repaired across several continents. It also meant they were hurriedly trying to rebuild the previous 15 years of damage to their own headquarters. It didn't mean he enjoyed it.

"Sorry, mom," he shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "I just couldn't focus today."

"Hm," Bulma frowned. "Are you feeling all right, Trunks?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

Bulma shot Trunks a suspicious look. "Don't you lie to me, Trunks Briefs."

"Mom, I'm fine—just—just a little bit uneasy, that's all."

"Uneasy? Why are you feeling uneasy? Everything is perfect now! The androids are gone, the company's doing great, _we're_ doing great…"

"Mom," Trunks cut in, his pale blue eyes staring earnestly into her own, "I think _that's_ the reason. Everything is going so well that I—I guess I'm not used to it yet."

Bulma's eyes lingered on her son for a moment longer, and she took in how much he'd grown while on his treacherous journey to the past. Trunks had explained to her how he and his father had spent a full two years inside the Hyperbolic Time Chamber training incessantly in a desperate bid to increase their fighting potential. Not only had Trunks grown older and taller, he'd grown to resemble Vegeta in more ways than one. This brooding temperament seemed to be the latest development. Bulma nodded her head in understanding and smiled.

"Well, thanks to you, we have all the time in the world for you to adjust," she consoled, patting her son gently on his shoulder. "Speaking of time, it's getting late. I think I'm going to head upstairs."

Trunks let her words sink in, but his expression remained unchanged as he watched his mother toss the pen back onto the desktop behind her and begin heading for the stairs that led up to the kitchen She flipped her long, blue hair and glanced over her shoulder.

"Would you like something to eat before bed?" she asked.

Trunks silently shook his head, returning to his seat at his own desk. "No thanks, Mom. I'll look over the plans before I come up, okay?"

"Sure," Bulma responded, her smile wavering slightly. "Good night, Trunks. I love you."

"G'night, Mom. Love you too."

As he listened to his mother's footfalls gradually fade, Trunks contemplated his mood. Maybe his mother was right. Perhaps time would be all it would take for him to adjust to a new life of peace. But after spending the most intense period of his life in the past, the notion of peace in the present was…well, boring. It wasn't that he missed being in near-constant danger, but he longed to feel adrenaline coursing through his veins again, he missed the camaraderie he'd shared in the past with his fellow fighters, and…

Trunks sighed, a frown creasing his features. He tapped his fingers on his desk. Why was the last reason so difficult to admit? It wasn't anything to be ashamed about, he rationalized. In fact, it was completely absurd that he was thinking about it in that way at all, so he decided to say it aloud.

"I miss you, Father," Trunks whispered softly.

The overwhelming silence was the only response to his quiet proclamation. Trunks sighed and turned back to the blueprints on the desk, resolving to abandon his emotional problems for the moment in order to finish his work. It was then that he heard a commotion upstairs.

The young Saiyan was on his feet in an instant, his senses on alert. His mother's voice, though muffled, was audible.

"No…no…no…ahhhh!" Bulma's shriek, followed by the loud sound of a pan clattering to the floor, was all it took for Trunks to burst into action. He sprung up the stairs into the kitchen in a matter of seconds, shrinking into a fighting stance and prepared to face a threat.

Instead, the youth found his mother bent over, cursing loudly at a heap of spilled food on the floor. The pan where the food had previously resided was upside-down a few feet away. Trunks let out an exasperated sigh, and approached the mess and his fuming mother. She flinched in surprise when she noticed him approach.

"Trunks! You snuck up on me!" she said, her temper withdrawing to reveal yet another smile. "Are you hungry after all?"

Trunks blinked for a moment, before he realized the absurdity of the actual reason he came up here. Of course there wasn't a threat—there couldn't be another threat. As far as Trunks knew, he was the most powerful person in this world.

The young Saiyan began to stutter sheepishly. "Um…well…"

"Well, we won't be having casserole," Bulma interrupted, glancing angrily back down at the lumpy slop that coated the floor in front of them. "I'm such a klutz. Good thing you didn't inherit _that_ trait from me. Just my good looks."

Trunks managed to crack a small smile. "Are you okay? Do you need my help cleaning up?"

Bulma released a long, tired sigh. She opened her mouth to respond, when a loud thump made the both of them jump. Bulma's eyes widened at the noise, and she yelped as her son grabbed her wrist and pushed her down.

"Ow, Trunks,"she whined. "What'd you do that fo—"

"Quiet!" her son hissed, in a tone he would normally never use towards his mother.

Bulma immediately became serious and crouched down with him. Something was definitely wrong when Trunks spoke to her like that. She followed her son's intense gaze towards a door on the opposite wall. Bulma gulped. The door led directly to the outside.

Someone…or something…was trying to get into her house, Bulma realized. An icy feeling dug its way into her insides, the likes of which she hadn't felt since before Trunks had returned from the past. She shrunk back behind the young Saiyan, her eyes staying locked on the door.

Suddenly, there was another thump, a bit softer than the first. A few seconds later, and the first and second thumps were succeeded by a third, and finally a soft rasping sound.

"Maybe it's an animal," Bulma whispered, a quiver of fear in her voice.

Trunks remained frozen in place, his blue eyes glinting with intensity as he stared at the door. His mother was wrong. From outside the door, he could sense a pulsing, vibrating, and very definite energy signature. This was absolutely no animal. The signature was weak, however, and seemed to be fading with every second that passed. The Saiyan realized that such a mediocre energy level certainly didn't belong to anyone that could pose a threat to him, and he glanced back at his mother.

"Stay here," he commanded gently.

Bulma nodded, and watched her son rise and approach the door slowly. The tension in Trunks's body was gone, but he was still taking precautions. She shrank back behind a table as her son prepared to swing open the door and confront whatever it was that was trying to gain access. Trunks took a breath and grasped the door handle, the cool metal electrifying slightly as his energy coursed through it. He glanced back towards his cowering mother.

"Ready?" he whispered.

Bulma nodded in response, and shrank back a few more inches.

Trunks swallowed, briefly wondering if he was being foolish. An energy signature this low usually wasn't one he would bother being fearful about, but he knew that somewhere out there, an imperfect Cell was wandering the Earth, searching for the androids Trunks himself had destroyed. This could be a trick, and the young Saiyan wasn't going to be fooled.

_One…two…three…_

Trunks counted down the seconds in his head, and then violently swung the door open. His free hand shot out in front of him, prepared to strike down any possible threat. But what greeted him wasn't a monster, an android, or anything else remotely threatening. Instead, a dark, crumpled mass collapsed into the doorway at Trunks's feet. The boy blinked, and then gasped in surprise; he heard his mother's equally astonished intake of breath from across the room.

It was a body—the body of a man, to be specific. Trunks gaped at the form in front of him in disbelief. During his lifetime, Trunks had grown accustomed to the scent of blood, and he recognized the sickening, slightly metallic smell immediately. The person had been beaten to an absolute pulp. He was shocked even more when he remembered the energy signature he'd felt only moments ago. Kneeling down, the young man placed a tender hand on the back of the man who had fallen through the door into his home. Thankfully, he still felt a weak, lingering energy.

The man was alive—but just barely.

"Oh my gosh," Bulma blurted, and Trunks's head snapped up.

His mother had abandoned her hiding place behind the table and raced across the room. She knelt down in front of the body, her hands hesitantly reaching out to pull the person further inside so Trunks could shut the door. Blood still seeping from the wounds smeared bright red streaks onto the white kitchen tile, and when she withdrew her touch, her hands came away stained red. Bulma stared at her dripping palms in despair.

"We need a life support capsule, immediately," Trunks instructed. "He's fading fast!"

Bulma bounced up and nodded. "I'm on it!"

Trunks's eyes flickered to his mother long enough to see her scrambling to her feet. He turned back to the body and carefully began to turn the body over, but the slipperiness of the blood was making that task difficult. Finally, he succeeded in turning the mysterious victim onto his back, and Trunks felt his heart nearly turn to stone inside his chest.

"Mother, wait!"

Bulma spun around, her eyes filled with worry. "What?"

She glanced at her son, and the icy feeling snaked its way back into her stomach. The color had fled Trunk's complexion, his eyes had gone wide, and his mouth hung open. Her son looked as if he'd been struck to the bone with absolute shock and disbelief. And when Bulma turned to stare where Trunks was staring, she understood why.

"It can't be…" Trunks murmured, his voice quivering. "It's not possible!"

The dark, distinctive hairstyle, the sharp, pointed features, the compact muscular build—even the white and yellow armor, which Bulma had designed herself—screamed otherwise. Despite the utter impossibility of it, neither of them could deny what they saw in front of them. It was unmistakable-the broken, bloodied body belonged to none other than Vegeta, the prince of Saiyans.

And he was dying in front of them.

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**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

No reviews yet, of course, but I would like to give a huge shout-out to my friends and fellow readers and writers at the **Neo Z Fighter's** forum. Thanks guys, for welcoming me into your community so warmly, for encouraging me to write this story, and (hopefully) for reading. I truly appreciate it. : )


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Sad day.

**Author's Note:** I have a feeling that many of my readers will be surprised to find out after reading my prologue that this chapter will not also be set in Mirai Trunks's timeline. I suppose it was a bit misleading to begin that way, and I apologize if any of you are disappointed. Allow me to explain: I'm using a narrative technique called _en medias res_, which is Latin for "into the middle of things", and it works exactly as it sounds. The author begins the narrative in the middle of the plot, where a dramatic situation arises, and then utilizes flashbacks to fill in the earlier events. The result is a nonlinear narrative which some may find hard to follow, but I urge you to be patient with me. You'll find out exactly how Vegeta ended up on Trunks's doorstep nearly dead soon enough, but for now, I beg you to pay close attention to the years and dates I include at the beginning of every chapter. I will punctuate the "flashback" sequences with chapters that are set in the Mirai timeline for those who are Trunks fans. Chapters featuring Mirai Trunks and Bulma will be labeled with "Age 785" and those focusing on Vegeta will begin with "Age 768", as this one does. There will also be one more alternate timeline featured in this story, so I will also ask that everyone expect the unexpected. I don't believe I'm a fantastic technical writer by any means, but imaginative plot twists are my strength. Nothing will be as it seems.

I'd also like to say that even though I try to not be a stereotypical English teacher and promote the importance of reading in my writing, books always somehow end up playing a significant role in my stories. You will see what I mean when you read on. You will also see a not-so-subtle reference to my chosen profession. Some may believe it to be a bit of a stretch, but it's what came to me organically while writing and I like it, so I'm keeping it.

Lastly, I hope you'll all enjoy! Review responses are at the bottom of the chapter. Thanks ever so much for everyone who reviewed the prologue! You are, as always, enormously appreciated.

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Age 768_

_June 20th_

Mother Earth was giving birth to another day. Above the countryside, the stars were gently flickering out, eclipsed by cragged mountains and twisted forest trees. The brightness of the morning sun gradually broke over the horizon, the golden light spilling out over the landscape, chasing the darkness away. It was stunningly beautiful. But for the lone Saiyan floating above, the transformation of the scenery surrounding him was detestable. Every new day reminded him of the overwhelmingly mediocre path his life had taken.

_Kakarot, this is all your fault._

A hateful scowl formed on Prince Vegeta's face, and he whipped a hand above his head. A burst of energy suddenly materialized above his palm, and with a shout he flung it towards the rising sun. The blue orb whizzed over the trees before exploding violently; the blue-tinted blast was momentarily even brighter than the most luminous sunrise. A few seconds later, when the dust and debris had settled, a crater the size of a small city had formed in the Earth's surface, and a few mountains had been reduced to rubble.

Vegeta continued to scowl. He raised his hands once again, punctuating his every angry thought with yet another blast.

_Goddamned, stupid Kakarot!_

One more explosion.

_What happened to your Saiyan pride?_

One more blast.

_How could you have chosen death over coming back and facing me?_

One more scar in the Earth.

Finally, when the landscape below him blazed with the flames of his own rage, Vegeta concluded his attack and lowered his arms. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, more out of intense frustration than exhaustion. It wasn't fair.

Vegeta had ceaselessly trained for years on end in order to surpass the younger, lower-classed Saiyan. He had managed to become a legendary Super Saiyan—he had managed to ascend beyond even that stage—but all in vain. When Kakarot perished in his efforts to destroy the monster known as Cell, and then demanded not to be wished back to life, all of Vegeta's preparations had been thrown into the wind. His purpose in life—to become the strongest Saiyan fighter ever known—was lost forever.

Now, with no rival to antagonize him and with no new foes daring to make an appearance, Vegata's training, as well as his sanity, had taken a nosedive. Every day he spent hours here on this abandoned, lonely part of the planet, far away from any of the idiotic humans, contemplating his miserable existence and attacking the earth below him. The ground below was pockmarked with the evidence of his visits the past few months. He wished that he could satisfy his lust for violence by destroying a city occasionally, but unfortunately he wasn't the only warrior out here. Every once in a while he could feel a faint energy signature that belonged to the Namek, but never once did Piccolo dare to approach the Saiyan prince. Even though Kakorrot had been stupid enough to trust him, it was obvious that the Namek did not. His faint, faraway energy was his own way of letting Vegeta know that he was being watched. He wished he could destroy the Namek as well, but such an action would bring on repercussions that he did not want to deal with. But the thought of the other fighter checking up on him like he was a mere child flared Vegeta's temper again, and he hurled another sizzling blue ball towards the horizon. It exploded brilliantly, reducing a mountain to a massive pile of rubble.

Vegeta had realized that sating his anger in this manner was the only way to prevent him from blowing his top once he returned home to Bulma and his son. The prince frowned at the thought of his emotional attachments to this world. The woman and his half-breed offspring had meant next to nothing to him before, but after witnessing his son's future counterpart die a gruesome death at the hands of Cell his perspective had changed. Whereas he'd previously found the woman and child nearly insufferable, now he felt a very strange sense of pride in the fact that he was the sole full-blooded Saiyan tasked with carrying on his race's powerful legacy. Bulma, while scatter-brained and nearly as temperamental as he could be, was the closest thing that he had to an ally in this world. It no longer made a difference to him that she was a weak, fragile human—the unending patience and resilient loyalty she exhibited towards the Saiyan prince had earned his respect. After all, it wasn't as if there were any Saiyan women still alive for him to copulate with, and having given up the chance at immortality long ago, the next best thing was to continue his legacy by raising offspring.

Vegeta's thoughts ruminated on his boy for a moment longer. Trunks was only a toddler, but at present his energy signature was strong enough to rival that of some of the weaker fighters in their exclusive circle. Vegeta had already witnessed what a formidable warrior his son had the potential to become, but he had to be careful. His son from the future had grown up similarly to his father—in a place where everyone he cared about was eventually destroyed by a much more powerful, malevolent force and he was left alone to fend for himself. In this time, where peace seemed to permeate the future, his son could grow soft and squash Vegeta's hopes for him. The Saiyan prince resolved to train the boy himself to prevent such a catastrophe, but Bulma had expressly forbidden him from doing so until Trunks had aged two Earth years.

Another flash of rage vibrated through him. Vegeta had grown up baptized in the blood of his enemies and the genocide of his people. Now he seemed doomed to resign himself to a new, undignified existence. The Saiyan prince sighed, then sucked in another heated breath and hurled yet another blast spiraling towards the ground below.

Some hours later, Vegeta reappeared at Capsule Corporation, marching his way into the kitchen. Thankfully, Bulma's mother was away torturing someone else with her presence, so the Saiyan was free to poke about the fridge for something to eat by himself. As he shuffled the various containers in search of something satisfactory, he became aware of a lesser energy signature approaching from behind, and soon afterward felt a small figure hugging his calf. Vegeta glanced down into the face of his son, who in turn gazed up at him curiously.

"Dada!" the toddler exclaimed enthusiastically.

The Saiyan prince scowled down on the pale-haired child, before shaking Trunks off him, grabbing a soda, and plopping down on the couch in the living area. He heard the pitter-patter of tiny footprints as Trunks followed him, and soon the toddler's blue eyes were peering over the cushions. His pudgy arms and hands reached up, grasping the fabric of the couch, in a vain attempt to hoist himself up. Vegeta watched with mild interest as his offspring struggled.

"Aren't you going to help him up?" a familiar, female voice asked from behind.

Vegeta sighed; he was not in the mood for a lengthy argument with Bulma at the moment. "Woman, a full-blooded Saiyan child would have transformed and devastated this entire planet and all of its pathetic life forms by now, so if _your_ offspring cannot climb onto the couch I'm certainly not obligated to help."

The blue-haired woman appeared in front of him now, leaning down to pick up the still-struggling boy. She cradled Trunks with one arm and tickled him with the opposite hand, drawing a fit of giggles from the child. Then Bulma shot an exasperated look at Vegeta. "He's _your_ offspring too, you know. Would it kill you to spend a little time with Trunks?"

"I would, except I remember someone ordering me that I wasn't allowed to train the boy until he turned two Earth years old," Vegeta retorted bitterly.

"I did say that, but you can do something else with him besides train, you know."

"Hrmph. Like what? Read him a bedtime story? I'm a warrior, not a—"

"You're a _father_," Bulma interrupted, matching the Saiyan's scowl. "You should start acting like one."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he could practically feel the air crackle between them. Bulma could be infuriating, and most of the time their exchanges were heated—in one way or the other—but deep down he appreciated the interest she took in him and Trunks. Bulma and the boy were the only people he didn't daydream about killing, even when they irritated the hell out of him. However, he was still in his foul mood from this morning, and he wasn't about to show Bulma any sympathy. Silence suddenly permeated the space between the Saiyan prince and the woman.

Finally, Bulma spoke up again. This time her tone was much more soft, gentle, and persuasive. Vegeta was instantly wary of the words that came pouring out of her mouth.

"Speaking of bedtime stories," Bulma began slowly, "Krillin wanted you to read this."

The woman walked over to the kitchen countertop and curled her well-manicured fingers around a thick manuscript. She plopped it abruptly onto Vegeta's lap, earning herself another repugnant glare from the prince. The front page of the manuscript was blank except for a title typed in black ink across the middle: _Sacrifice: The True Story of the Cell Games. _

"What the hell is this?" Vegeta demanded.

Bulma shrugged nonchalantly. "Krillin says that he needs money to impress Android Eighteen, and he's pretty pissed at this Mr. Satan guy who's that claiming _he_ was the one who beat Cell, so he's decided to write a tell-all book about the Cell Games," she explained. "This is his first draft, and…how did he put it? He said he would be 'honored' if you'd proofread it."

The Saiyan prince stared at her in disbelief. "So now I'm a goddamned English teacher too?" he shouted, his face reddening in anger.

"Vegeta, it's a complement! Krillin knows how knowledgeable you are, and he wants your opinion. Plus, there's one chapter written about every fighter involved, including you. He wanted you to read that to make sure he got your story right."

"_My_ story? What gives that bald-headed weakling the idea that he knows the first thing about me?"

Bulma balanced Trunks on her hip and shrugged. "I think what Krillin's doing is pretty cool."

"I think I'll kill him," Vegeta countered threateningly.

The blue-haired woman directed another sharp look at the Saiyan. He did not meet her gaze this time. Finally, Bulma raised an eyebrow, sighed, and refocused her attention on her son, who was still giggling madly in her arms. She chose her next words carefully.

"Look, if you don't want to do it, just put it right back on the counter and I'll give it back to Krillin. No big deal."

"Hmph," grunted the prince, still refusing to look at her. His temper was flaring, and he was struggling not to blast a hole in the wall behind her. Bulma either didn't notice or was ignoring Vegeta's obvious rage.

"Do what you want, Vegeta," she said as she and the toddler in her arms turned away. "Right now, I think someone needs to go down for his afternoon nap."

"Nap!" Trunks gurgled happily.

"Yes, nap! Very good, Trunks," Bulma replied.

Vegeta finally turned his head and watched glumly as Bulma walked away, the baby loudly cooing in her arms. Anger had pooled in his chest, threatening to erupt in a burst of violence. The Saiyan sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, visualized his time spent blasting at the earth's crust this morning, and exhaled. That didn't seem to help much, so the next breath he took he visualized crushing the dwarf's skull beneath his boot, which felt better. A few more breaths and he felt his fury begin to dissolve into mere annoyance. Vegeta opened his eyes hesitantly, and he felt the thick block of paper that was still in his grasp. As he stared at it, fury sparked again within him—but so did curiosity. Vegeta briefly wondered what the senseless, height-challenged imp could have possibly written about him. What made that worthless human believe that he knew the "story" of the prince of all Saiyans? Disgusted, the Vegeta gripped onto the pages more tightly, preparing to rip the entire block of pages into shreds—when a sudden, illuminating thought occurred to him. After a moment of contention, the Saiyan hesitantly flipped through the manuscript.

The smooth, white pages showed evidence of being handled by more than one person; the corners had curled slightly, there were a few coffee stains here and there, and several different colored pens had been used to make edits throughout. Bulma had said that the weakling named Krillin had written a chapter about each of the fighters involved in the Cell Games, and that meant there had to be a chapter dedicated to Kakarot. Vegeta's mind raced, and he realized quickly that what he held in his hands might not be the useless trash it seemed to be. The miniscule fighter had known Kakarot since childhood, had been present for nearly all of the latter's major battles, and would know his techniques and special skills

Vegeta felt a rare smile tugging at his lips. Yes, the gods had sent him a blessing packaged in a most clever disguise. He could feel it. Kakarot had bested the prince of all Saiyans in life, but now he was gone, and his history reduced to mere words on a page. Perhaps, Vegeta thought, this manuscript contained Kakarot's secret. Perhaps it would divulge the reasons why his power had grown so much, at such an extraordinary rate, in such a short amount of time. And perhaps, this useless-looking wad of pages would reveal how Vegeta could _finally_ surpass him.

**Super Vegetarott:** Thanks for your feedback! I'm glad my story was engaging for you. If you did find grammatical mistakes within the chapter, I apologize for them. I feel like a bad example when I make mistakes, but some always manage to slip through. I understand completely why you say my concept is a bit forced, but I'm proud of what I've created and hope you'll still enjoy it. Thank you for saying my writing is excellent; I will certainly be interested in hearing how you felt about this chapter.

**The Forgotten Phoenix:** Whew, your review was a long and detailed one! Thanks for taking the time to write it. Thanks for your complements regarding Trunks's characterization. One of the things I take much pride in is having a good grasp of characters' personalities and keeping them as close to the canon as possible. Bulma's character takes a backseat to Trunks and Vegeta for much of the narrative, but I have a chapter or two planned that hopefully will focus a bit more on her development. I think my author's note explains a little bit more about how I intend to carry out the plot of my story, and yes, there will be plenty of plot twists to enjoy! Thanks very much for the kind review! I'll be sure to put a story of yours on my list of things to review.

**Full Power:** Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you liked the prologue. I know it's not touched on during this chapter, but very soon you'll begin to receive some clues as to how Vegeta ended up at Mirai Trunks's place. It will be a while though, as I have something very unexpected and exciting planned. Thanks very much!

**Jason9000:** Thanks for your review, and your complements. Vegeta does show up before Imperfect Cell shows up in the Mirai timeline, but I'm not giving anthing away. You'll have to continue reading to find out what happens! Everything will be knit together eventually. Thanks again for your review!

**Apollo1147:** Hey there! Thanks for your review. I'm glad you enjoyed my characterization of Trunks. I pride myself on how well I develop my character, and I try to keep their personalities as close to the canon as possible. I'm glad you found the story easy to read as well. As for your question, about me adding an original character, I have to say the answer is: "Kind of, but not exactly." And I really can only follow this up by saying when you meet this character, you'll see what I meant here. Once again, thanks very much for your complements!

**Smalsa:** Hey, thanks for your review! I greatly appreciate your interest in my plot. I'm sorry that this chapter doesn't deal with the Mirai timeline at all. I hope you enjoyed it despite that fact. There will be another chapter taking place in that setting in Chapter Four, but everything that happens up until then helps to explain how Vegeta ended up on Mirai Trunks's doorstep. Once again, thanks ever so much for your review!

**FinalFlashX: **Hello, and thanks for your kind review! I'm glad you enjoyed my characterization of Trunks. As you see above (if you've been reading them and didn't just skip to your name), you were not the only one. I'm very happy about that, because characterization is one of the aspects of storytelling I think is most important, and I also think it's one of the things I'm best at. I hope you're not disappointed that this chapter was not set in the Mirai timeline, but I assure you, more chapters set there will be coming! Eventually, as the flashbacks close the gap between the prologue and the events set in this chapter, more and more action will take place in Trunks's world. As I mentioned above, nothing will be as it seems, and I'm the queen of inventive plot twists, so I hope my story will keep you intrigued for many more chapters! Thanks again!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Sad day. Akira Toriyama should call me though.

**Author's Note:** I feel a bit "meh" about this chapter. It just wasn't very compelling to write, so I'm not entirely convinced it will be compelling to read. I tried to insert some DBZ-esque character-based humor; I'm not sure if I was successful. However, at least my readers who have been patiently waiting to find out a little more about the technique that opens rifts in time and space will find out where it comes from. I'm afraid it's not hard to guess. I hope I'm wrong about feeling the way I do about this chapter, but if not, rest assured that there will be more answers and more Mirai Trunks in the next two chapters posted. I'm also aware that my chapters tend to be short (around 2,000 words) and I'm going to work on that in future chapters. However, he bottom line is where there is a nature break in my story, I end the for continued support, and enjoy!

If you are enjoying my story, I suggest you read the story **"Role Reversal" by Neo Z Fighters**. It's a collaboration of four authors, and it's looking to be a great one! Please support their efforts and check it out!

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Age 768_

_June 21st_

The next morning, Bulma was awoken early by a familiar wailing that originated from Trunk's room. She rolled over, groaned in protest, and yanked the sheets over her head. It had become painfully apparent over the past few weeks that her son was a morning person. Bulma, on the other hand, was definitely _not_ a morning person. The heiress buried her head deeper into her pillow as she vainly tried to ignore the screaming for a few more precious moments. It was pointless, however, and eventually Bulma rolled up and out of bed, rubbing the last remnants of sleepiness from her eyes. As she blinked against the beams of sunlight peeking through her bedroom windows, she noticed that the other side of her bed was empty.

Vegeta hadn't come to bed last night.

Bulma raised an eyebrow quizzically. He'd been in the living area last night, she remembered, when she'd given him Krillin's manuscript. She frowned when she remembered what a foul mood the prince had been in, but was quickly snapped back to reality by the sound of yet another cry from her son. Yawning, the heiress pulled on her robe and made her way to Trunks's room. The toddler was waiting for her when she opened the door.

"Hey there, little man," she greeted him with a smile. "Up early again? Yes, you just couldn't wait to see your mommy, could you?"

Trunks shrieked with delight when she lifted him out of his crib and into the cradle of Bulma's arms. She balanced him on her hip, made his bed up, and then wandered into the kitchen. The toddler was unusually energetic this morning, and he struggled against her until she put him into his high chair.

"Yum! Yum! Yum!" the child demanded, pounding his tiny fists into tabletop.

Bulma shot the toddler a frustrated look. "Alright, already!" she said. "Obviously you inherited your appetite from your father."

"I heard that, woman!"

The familiar, gruff voice barked from across the room, and gave Bulma a considerable start. She glanced up in surprise. Vegeta glared sharply at her from the couch in the living area, his brow creased in annoyance. The prince was still dressed his Saiyan armor from yesterday, and as the heiress studied him closer, she noticed Krillin's manuscript was open in the prince's lap. He appeared not to have moved from that spot since she'd last seen him. Bulma blinked at Vegeta in disbelief.

"Vegeta, did you stay up all night?"

"So what if I did?"

"You didn't sleep _at all_?"

"Saiyans require less sleep than your weakling race, woman."

"Of course they do," Bulma countered apathetically, but then she smiled coyly. "You were up all night reading, weren't you?"

"Hmph," grunted the prince in response. However, even a minimal reply confirmed Bulma's suspicions.

"Well, did you find anything interesting?" Bulma probed, walking up and glancing over the Saiyan's shoulder. Vegeta mumbled something rude and promptly slammed the manuscript shut.

"This? This is _filth_," he sneered, throwing the pages to the ground without a care.

The Saiyan prince stood, stretched his stiff muscles, and stomped away out the door to the outside, where the sun was just beginning to rise above the surrounding buildings. Bulma watched as her child's father stalked into the middle of yard, crouched down, and then blasted upward with a violent burst of energy. An abrupt gust of wind accompanied his sudden departure, rattling the windows and sending waves of vibrations through the ground. The heiress rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers, and she felt a frown tugging at her lips. She could feel a headache coming on.

_What a jerk,_ Bulma thought as she bent down to pick up the crumpled manuscript on the floor. _Sometimes I wonder what I see in him…_

* * *

"Hello? Hey babe! What? No, no one's dying. Well, I was just wondering, are we still on for Friday night? What do you mean that depends on where I made a reservation? I didn't even know you wanted me to take you out to dinner! Two-week anniversary? Well—no, no! Of course I didn't forget, babe! I'd never forget about our anniversary…"

Master Roshi groaned and tried to tune out the sound of Krillin's manhood being cut down one word at a time over the phone. The retired martial arts master sighed, feeling sorry for the young man. That Android Eighteen was gorgeous beyond compare, and she was an unmatched fighter, but both her beauty and her combat skills were dwarfed by her unbelievably difficult nature. Poor Krillin practically danced in circles around his new girlfriend in order to make her happy, but his courtship skills were rusty, and he was constantly making amateur mistakes. Today was no exception. Roshi rolled his eyes, leaned over his beach lounger, and grabbed his stack of magazines. It was likely he would be listening to Krillin beg for mercy for at least thirty more minutes. The old man was just beginning to flip open an eight-pager and return to his lecherous ways, when he sensed an energy signature rocketing towards his island. Roshi sat up, his senses peaked.

_There's no mistaking who it is with that power level,_ the old man thought. _But why is __he__ coming __here__? _

The old man knew he wouldn't have to wait very long to find out.

Inside the house, the assault Eighteen was unloading on Krillin's ears was interrupted by alarm bells sounding in his head. He recognized Vegeta's energy signal speeding towards the island. A nervous jolt shot down his spin, and the small warrior gulped. Why was Vegeta, of all people, coming to Kame House? Reluctantly, he interrupted Eighteen's tirade.

"Hey, um…babe? Yeah, I'm…um…expecting a visitor. No, it's _not_ another girl. It's Vegeta. No, I will _not_ pass on that message to him. Because he'd slice me in _half_ if I said that! See you tomorrow night. Yes, I promise. Yes. _Yes. _Okay, bye."

Krillin slammed the phone down on the receiver just as the front door burst open with such force that it was knocked completely off its hinges, and Vegeta's distinctive silhouette appeared in the doorway. The smaller warrior stood stiffly as the Saiyan stomped inside the small building. Vegeta's eyes settled on him, and Krillin began to feel like he was one of those insects often seen pinned under glass in museums and collections.

"Can I come in?" Vegeta sneered, an air of dark humor in his voice.

Krillin glared at the Saiyan warrior, not masking his dislike for the taller warrior. "Sure, no problem," he grumbled, clearly annoyed.

The prince surveyed his surroundings with little interest. "Charming place," he observed mockingly. "It's almost as pathetic as its inhabitants."

Krillin sucked in a breath, puffed out his chest, and tried to keep his knees from wobbling under the intense gaze of the prince. "It's nice to see you too, Vegeta," he replied sardonically.

"Save it," the taller warrior interrupted. "You have some explaining to do, baldy."

Krillin's nervousness increased tenfold when he heard the vicious quality in the Saiyan's voice. "Explaining? W-w-what do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb," Vegeta snapped. "In your pathetic book, you wrote that Kakarot had failed to master a technique that he learned about in space. I want to know what it is."

Krillin blinked, his shock eclipsing his anxiety for a moment. "You actually read my book?"

Suddenly, Master Roshi's head popped up in the window, with beads of nervous sweat forming on his brow. "Krillin, just thought I'd let you know that—oh _crap_, he's already here!"

Krillin looked past the Saiyan warrior in annoyance at his master, his voice once again slick with sarcasm. "Yes, Master Roshi, thank you for telling me," he replied through tightly clenched teeth.

Vegeta whirled around, snarling menacingly. "Get out of here, old man," he commanded. "None of this concerns you."

"_Already gone!_"

The head in the window was gone as swiftly as it had appeared, and Vegeta turned back towards Krillin, immobilizing the smaller warrior with another disdainful glare. The two fighters blinked silently at one another for a moment, the cool ocean breeze swirling around them, until Vegeta grew impatient.

"I'm waiting," the Saiyan prince growled dangerously.

Krillin continued to struggle to process what was happening. "Hold on, you want to know _what _about Goku's technique?"

"Imbecile! I'll say it slowly so your inferior mind can understand: In your ridiculous book, you have a chapter dedicated to Kakarot's past. In it, you reveal that he told you about a technique he learned about while traveling in space—one that he never had a chance to master. I _command_ you to tell me everything he told you about this technique!"

Krillin's eyebrows raised, and he thought for a moment how comical this situation was at its core. Vegeta needed his help. The thought made him bolder than he'd normally be around the petulant Saiyan. "Well, pardon my inferior mind for wondering," he countered, "but why do you care?"

The prince's temper, and the aura of energy surrounding him, flared wildly. "Have you been blind, deaf, and dumb all these years? Because, you insolent numbskull, I _will_ master this technique, and in doing so, I will prove once and for all that _Vegeta_—not Kakarrot—is the greatest Saiyan warrior the universe has ever seen!"

"Okay, okay!" Krillin said, backing away. "Calm down. I'll tell you everything I know. Just don't blow up my home, okay?"

Vegeta shot the smaller warrior another lethal look, but he inhaled deeply and his aura softened.

It took a few minutes, but Krillin eventually divulged what he could about Goku's mysterious technique, while Vegeta listened intently and committed every word to memory. Apparently, on Planet Yardrat, while honing his teleportation skills, another race that called the planet home had appeared to Goku. This race had the ability to manipulate matter like the Yardrats, but in a very different method. Instead of dematerializing your own body to move faster throughout the universe, these beings could manipulate the very fabric that separated time and space on a molecular level. They taught Goku how to sense energies beyond that of this dimension, and to focus his own energy on these points with the objective to form a wormhole between them. When used properly, a warrior could use the technique to open up a portal that would suck his opponent into another dimension, effectively removing the threat without resorting to violence. The fact that it didn't require him to physically hurt anyone made the technique especially attractive to Goku. Unfortunately, he was forced to leave Planet Yardrat to intercept Freiza and his father before they reached Earth, and was never able to complete his training with its inhabitants.

"It's a complicated technique from what I gathered. Goku had years to train, and that's not even counting the time he spent in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber," Krillin explained. "But he never mastered the technique. He wasn't strong enough at the time, but there was something else—"

"Aha!" Vegeta interjected with a wicked grin. "He wasn't strong enough. Well, I'll just increase the intensity of my training and I'll surpass him soon enough."

"No, that's not the reason he didn't master it, he stopped on his own—"

"I _will_ master this technique, and I don't need any interplanetary filth to show me how. I'll do it _myself_."

"Vegeta, seriously, Goku stopped trying to perfect the technique for a reason!" Krillin insisted desperately.

"Shut it, baldy," the Saiyan prince responded with a sneer. "I've got what I came for, and I don't need to hear any more of your useless babble."

Vegeta shot the shorter warrior one last condescending glance, and before Krillin could say anything more, the prince was already out the door and rocketing back into the sky. A tumultuous wind rippled across the small island and the surrounding waters, and Krillin shielded his eyes from the blast. By the time he'd reached the doorway, the warrior could see that Vegeta was already long gone. It would be fruitless—and potentially dangerous—to try and follow him. Roshi's head popped up from around the corner of the house, his sunglasses slightly askew.

"What on Earth did he want?"

Krillin's brow furrowed. "He wanted information about the technique that Goku never mastered."

"The time-space rift technique?" the old man replied, his eyes filled with concern. "I thought that Goku had stopped trying to perfect that because he found out how dangerous it was."

"Well, Vegeta didn't want to hear any of that from me," Krillin grunted in disgust.

"What? You didn't tell him? What if he tries it and gets himself killed—or worse?"

Krillin entertained the thought for a moment. Unsurprisingly, he didn't feel a whole lot of remorse for failing to tell Vegeta of the potential danger the special technique could pose if he attempted to use it. He almost wished for such a thing to happen. A world without the egotistical, megalomaniac Saiyan might be better off. Vegeta was like a ticking time bomb, and now that Goku was gone and Gohan had returned to his studies, there was no one strong enough to rival his power if he exploded. But then again, if something happened to Vegeta, Bulma would be heartbroken and Trunks would grow up without a father.

"No, I didn't tell him," Krillin sighed in exasperation. "But don't worry, I'll place a call to Bulma this afternoon and let her know what's happened. She'll let him know, and hopefully Vegeta will listen to her."

"This afternoon may be too late," Master Roshi urged.

Krillin glanced worriedly at his old master, and then down at the sand at his feet. "You're right," he finally relented. "I'll make the call right now."

* * *

**REVIEWER RESPONSES:**

**A huge THANK YOU to those who added my story to their Alerts: Apollo1147, Cosmic Cannon, DrzMarcelo, Full Power, LucifVegeta, Spirrow, Super Vegetarott, TaniaKoi, don't call me green, six23, and smalsa! **

**A second THANK YOU to those who added my story to their Favorites: 3rdb33re, Apollo1147, Cosmic Cannon, DrzMarcelo, Full Power, Jason9000, Lucif Vegeta, Spirrow, Super Vegetarott, and TaniaKoi! **

**Smalsa: **Hooray! Thank you for following me! I really appreciate it. I'm glad you thought my moments of Vegeta's dark humor funny. I tried to incorporate that a little more in this chapter—please tell me what you think! I know that this chapter doesn't divulge much about Goku's mysterious technique other than where he came from, but I promise you, it will be much more thoroughly explained in the next chapter. I actually did some serious research to make sure that such a technique would be believable. I agree with you about how it was really disappointing that Goku's instant transmission technique wasn't further explained or taught to anyone else. I suppose part of my disappointment about that found its way into the plot of this story! Thanks very much for your kind words!

**Super Vegetarott:** Greetings! Thanks very much for your comprehensive review! I'm glad you thought my "English teacher" gag was amusing. I have to say, I was nervous while waiting for you to review my first chapter, since you seem a very methodical reviewer with high standards. Imagine my delight when I read your review! Thanks ever so much for adding my story to your favorites list! I think I jumped up from my computer and danced around the room a little bit to celebrate. I'm so pleased that you found my characterization of Vegeta and Bulma accurate. Thank you! As for Krillin's characterization, I hope you found it acceptable in this chapter. And Android Eighteen…ah, that android! I guess I just think of her as a very high maintenance and shallow person, as evidenced by her quest for new clothes in the beginning episodes of the Android Saga, and so I write her that way. Also, I needed a reason for Krillin to write the book, and that was the first idea I had! Thanks so much for commenting on my plot. I'm glad another person knows what _en medias res_ is and approves of my choice to use it. As for the technique Vegeta is going to attempt to learn, in theory it is one that can be used repeatedly, but just to use it just once is extraordinarily difficult. I don't want to give too much away, so I suppose I will have to say that I explain the technique and the "science" behind it much more thoroughly in the next chapter. Thank you so much for your wonderful comments and compliments! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Spirrow:** Hey there! Thank you for your review! I'm glad you think my grasp of the DBZ universe and characters is a solid one. Characterization, in particular, is one thing I pride myself upon. However, I don't know everything, so thank you for pointing out my GLARING mistake in Chapter One. It's been fixed. Thanks again for your kind compliments. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Jason9000:** Hello, friend! Thanks for reviewing my story! I'm happy to hear you like my writing style, and I'm curious and looking forward to reading a story of yours since you say you think we have similar writing styles. Personally, I try to keep my chapters very quick and to the point, with as little filler as possible. That's why my chapters tend to be shorter (around 2,000 words each). Some stories I've been reading have a good plot, but are very repetitive and redundant, with little to move the story forward. I want to avoid that as much as possible. I'm glad you enjoyed my ideas about Krillin writing the book and Piccolo keeping an eye on Vegeta! Thank you for all of your reviews, including those for my Zutara stories! I will strive to reciprocate once the school year is completely over! Thanks again, my friend!

**HamacaSkyWalker:** Hello, and thank you very much for your wonderful reviews! Oh, and the "cookie." You asked many (good) questions, so here I'll try to answer them in the order that you asked. First of all, in response to your inquiry about writing stories about original characters: No, I generally do not write stories about original characters, whether they are someone else's or my own. I find that they are too often author "self-insertions" and limit the creative challenges that writing a story using only characters from the canon can offer. You also asked about whether or not the androids would still be at large in Mirai Trunks's timeline, but in my prologue, I wrote the following: "Ever since [Trunks had] returned from his adventure in the past and destroyed Androids Seventeen and Eighteen a few weeks ago, Trunks had felt restless." I intended for that to make it clear that he had destroyed the android threat in his own time. Sorry if that was unclear! Thanks very much for your compliments!

**LucifVegeta:** Thanks for your detailed review! You're absolutely right. I've been using the wrong word. I meant "compliment", not "complement". Bad English teacher. Kudos to you for noticing the mistake I didn't! I'm glad you found the rest of my chapter without error. I'm equally ecstatic to hear you are supportive of my writing technique and style. We totally agree about Vegeta's characterization; so much of his identity is centered around his competition with Goku that I can't imagine what it must have been like for him in the seven years the latter was dead in the series. I see his desire to perfect the technique explained in this chapter as his simple, last-ditch effort to prove that he's more skilled and dedicated than Goku. Vegeta would never use such a technique in battle; he would rather take on a foe head on and beat him with his own fists instead of suck him into a portal. He's not intending to use the technique in battle in my story, but just wants to finally prove he can do something Goku could not. I'm glad you're looking forward to more "intricacies", as you put it; there will be a very complex plot coming in further chapters! Thanks again!

**Luke:** Oh, thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you think I write and characterize well, and I will certainly continue to do my best to do just that in the future! Thanks so much!

**Apollo1147:** I'm glad you were (and are) looking forward to more chapters! I will keep them coming! I'm so happy to hear that you're enjoying my writing style and that I don't use clichés! And yes, when I said "full-blooded Saiyan child would have transformed and devastated this entire planet and all of its pathetic life forms by now" I meant that the child would transform into the Great Ape, not a Super Saiyan. As for whether or not Trunks was born with a tail, my hypothesis is this: I believe he was not born with a tail. If he had, I doubt Vegeta would have allowed Bulma to remove it, and he's not seen with one in the series at any age. I figure that a half-Saiyan child has a 50/50 chance of being born with a tail, the same as a child with a blue-eyed parent and a brown-eyed parent has a chance of inheriting either eye color. We see this evidenced in Gohan being born with a tail and (as far as DBZ viewers know) Trunks being born without one. Thank you again for your wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**Cosmic Cannon:** Thank you for your compliments; I'm very flattered. I'm glad you thought my characterizations were spot on, as I believe that is one of my strengths and is something I constantly strive to improve. Certainly, Vegeta is very irritated in my story, but this is because he has to be in order to be motivated to do what he does in this chapter, and the next, and the next. You see what I mean. The anger he is feeling is the catalyst that begins everything. I'm glad you think my ideas are unique in a good way. By the way, I like your name! Thanks again for your kind review!


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Sad day.

**Author's Note: **Alright, first let me issue a HUGE apology for not updating for the last few weeks! I had the end of school, and immediately left for a vacation in Florida. It was fabulous, and I spent my time on the beach and frolicking around Disney World instead of writing. Once again, sorry to any who were eagerly waiting for the next chapter! This girl needed a break! Updates will be much more regular starting NOW.

Now about this chapter…I will give some warning: I delve into some pretty speculative theories in this chapter, mainly those dealing with astrophysics. But rest assured, I endeavored to explain them in a way all readers would understand. I felt the need to do so in order to make the technique Vegeta is attempting to perfect more believable. Technically, wormholes are recognized in the academic community as something that could potentially exist, which Einstein's general theory of relativity states. So by that logic, it should also be possible in the Dragon Ball Z universe. Hopefully, you'll all agree with me.

As always, thank you for those of you who have faithfully reading and reviewing thus far! I appreciate each and every one of you!

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

_Age 768_

_August 9th_

Bulma Briefs sat despondently at her kitchen table, her eyes red with lack of sleep and worry. Trunks, unaware of her despair, was busily trying to wiggle out of his high chair. The remains of a piece of birthday cake were smeared over the tabletop where the toddler had eaten. Today was the child's second birthday, but the mood was hardly celebratory. Trunks's father had been missing for weeks. Seven weeks, to be exact. Bulma was beginning to fear something terrible had happened to the Saiyan prince. The last thing she had heard of Vegeta's whereabouts came from Krillin, who had called her seven weeks prior to warn her that Vegeta might be on his way to attempt something dangerous—a new technique to open portals into alternate dimensions. Bulma didn't understand exactly what Krillin claimed the Saiyan was going to try to do, but it sounded like astrophysics. She was an engineer, so much of it was lost to her, and she'd gone to her father for help.

Eventually, between the three of them, they analyzed how such a technique would work. Her father's wordy, scientific explanation didn't translate for Bulma and Krillin, but they'd come up with a good analogy: Plains of existence were much like bed sheets held parallel to the ground by the corners. If two bed sheets were held apart, one above the other, they represented two different dimensions, or separate universes that could differ in a multitude of ways. These universes would continue on into infinity without ever touching each other. However, if you provided enough gravity—or power—to bend one of the dimensions, you could theoretically create a wormhole into another world. Bulma likened it to placing a heavy object on the top bed sheet. It would bend and sag, and if it was an object with enough weight, it would make contact with the second sheet. In a case like this, a wormhole would open.

Bulma wondered why on Earth Vegeta would want to learn such a thing. Krillin had explained to her that Goku had abandoned it, despite its unique qualities: He had become aware of how dangerous opening a wormhole into another dimension could be. Although Goku had originally intended to use it as a nonviolent way to dispose of his enemies, sending someone through a wormhole also meant that whatever was on the other side could find a way into their world. It also was a risk to his own life: As a wormhole had a considerable gravitational pull, it could easily suck in whoever was near it at the time of its creation—including its creator.

And as the weeks dragged on and no sign of Vegeta was found, it became increasingly possible in Bulma's frantic mind that that very thing had happened to him.

"Mama sad," Trunks observed, and Bulma looked up into the blue eyes that matched hers. The child had been watching her stare at the tabletop, lost in thought and tracing random shapes in the frosting smeared there. She smiled mournfully, and tousled the toddler's lavender hair.

"Mama just misses Daddy, Trunks," she explained. "She hopes he didn't do anything stupid to hurt himself."

"Dada?" inquired the child, with wonder in his voice.

"Yes, Daddy," Bulma said.

She became aware of a cast of shadows behind her, and she turned in her seat to see that most of her friends had entered the room. Chi-chi with baby Goten, Gohan, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, and even Piccolo had come to celebrate Trunks's birthday. She put on a resilient smile and greeted each of them, thanking them for coming. Soon the heiress's parents joined the party, but not even their presence could keep Bulma's mind from wandering, pondering where on Earth her Saiyan prince could be. Nobody made any mention of Vegeta, knowing the subject would dampen the celebratory atmosphere. Instead, they spent time chatting casually, eating the enormous quantity of food Bulma's mother had prepared, and watching an excited Trunks tear open his presents. Finally, Krillin pulled Bulma aside into a vacant hallway, and brought Piccolo with them. As they headed out of earshot, Bulma noticed that both warriors' expressions were grim.

"Any sign of him?" she asked as soon as they were far enough away from the crowd.

"Sorry, Bulma," Krillin said, his eyes downcast. "No one has seen or heard from Vegeta since he left Kame House."

The blue-haired woman sank back against the wall, a sickening feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. "Krillin," she lamented, "this technique thing you told me about has got me scared to death! You guys, something must have happened to him!"

"We don't know that," Krillin responded, rather unconvincingly. "Maybe he'll realize it's dangerous and give up."

"You don't know Vegeta," the woman replied. "He'll find a way even if it kills him. After all, that's how he became a Super Saiyan! Only this time, I'm afraid he actually _did_ kill himself."

Krillin became silent, so Bulma turned her attention to Piccolo. "Why are you here? What do you know about Vegeta being missing?"

"Bulma, I don't know if you know this," began Piccolo with a scowl, "but Vegeta had been spending time outside of the city for a while since Cell was defeated."

Bulma stared up at the massive green alien. "Wha…what? I know he'd disappear in the morning just before dawn, but what was he doing? Training somewhere?"

"I guess you could call it that. Most of the time he would spend shooting energy blasts into the Northern Mountains," Piccolo explained. "He was probably blowing off steam."

Krillin raised an eyebrow; obviously this was news to him as well. "Blowing off steam? About what?"

"Don't be so dense. Ever since he first landed on Earth, Vegeta's made it his life's goal to challenge and defeat Goku in battle. He lost that opportunity when Goku decided to stay in the Other World. He's angry about having been cheated out of his chance." The Namekian closed his eyes thoughtfully.

Bulma's eyes widened. "How do you know where he was, Piccolo?"

The Namekian opened his eyes and met Bulma's pleading look with a hard stare. He didn't want to have to tell Bulma that he'd been checking up on Vegeta to make sure he didn't resort to his old, murderous ways. After all, she trusted the Saiyan prince, and it was difficult for her to imagine that the other fighters in their excusive circle wouldn't do the same. Piccolo had little sympathy for the woman—she had made her bed with Vegeta and would have to sleep in it—but the diminutive compassion he felt for her persuaded him to lie.

"I could sense him from where I was," he feigned, glancing away hurriedly. "But not anymore. If Vegeta's still on the planet, he's either concealing his energy or he's gone somewhere very far away from here."

"But then how do we find him?" cried the woman.

"I'm sorry, Bulma," Krillin repeated. "But unless Vegeta wants to be found, I doubt we'll be able to smoke him out."

"What if something terrible happened to him? What if that technique backfired on him?"

"We can't rule anything out for the moment," Piccolo pressed, beginning to grow impatient with the woman's incessant questions. "It's not like this is the first time Vegeta's cast everything else aside for his own selfish reasons."

Bulma shot the Namekian warrior a sharp glance, but inside she knew his words were the truth. Ever since she'd known Vegeta, he'd made it a periodic habit to disappear for weeks, or sometimes months, for reasons known only to him. He'd been gone for nearly a year before Frieza had made his brief appearance on Earth, searching the galaxy for Goku. And while she was pregnant with Trunks, he'd vanished again for her entire third trimester and the birth, only to reappear afterward the happiest she'd ever seen him. Not because his son had been born, of course, but because he'd finally achieved his goal to become a Super Saiyan. Piccolo was right—she couldn't automatically assume that something had gone wrong. There was zero evidence on the table right now to prove that a catastrophe had taken place, and lots of it to suggest that Vegeta had simply taken a yet another sabbatical from his life on Earth.

"Okay," she finally relented, putting a hand up to her temple. "But please, don't stop looking for him. I know you two aren't exactly fans of his, but Trunks needs his father…and I need him too."

Krillin nodded, and met his friend's blue eyes. A solemn look passed between them. "Don't worry, Bulma. We'll do everything we can to bring Vegeta back. He has to be out there…somewhere."

* * *

This day, the sun did not rise. It was masked by a dark blanket of clouds and torrential rain that stretched from horizon to horizon. Darkness entombed the landscape, illuminated only by the frequent blasts of lightning ripping across the sky. The wind whipped violently, straining the branches of the trees, tearing the out leaves and sending them swirling into the stratosphere. A normal person would have sought shelter from the extremity of the elements, but to Vegeta, the raging weather seemed fitting. He stood in the thick of it, unafraid, welcoming the worst. It was as if the squall was a physical manifestation of the frustration seething inside him.

It had been seven weeks. Seven miserable, detestable, hateful weeks, scratching a living off the rocks in the most remote corner of the planet, and yet Vegeta had made only minimal progress learning Kakarrot's mysterious time-space rift technique. The Saiyan prince had always suspected such a technique could be possible, but such whispers had only been legend among Frieza's troops. Of course, the tale of a Super Saiyan challenging the universe's most powerful tyrant had begun as legend as well, and had been revealed to be a glorious reality, much to the Frieza's chagrin. So why now was Vegeta having such a difficult time making _his_ dream a reality? He'd managed to perfect his skills at sensing energy signatures from dimensions beyond in just the first three weeks. He had even begun to sense the complex web of energy that connected all planes of existence, a skill that sometimes disturbed even him. He had experienced unbelievable power levels in his time, but some of the energy signatures in the worlds beyond reached truly astronomical heights. It made Vegeta shudder to think about it, but it never made him cease trying to complete the last step in the technique—concentrating enough energy to open a rift through time and space.

It was this step that Vegeta had spent the last four frustrating weeks attempting to perfect, but his progress had been minimal at best. Even when he used every ounce of life force he had, he simply couldn't harness enough energy to break the bonds between this world and the next. It seemed utterly futile, but the stubbornness of the Saiyan prince was unmatched. He would absolutely not give up.

He would _never_ give up.

So in the downpour, the lone Saiyan stood, contemplating his predicament. This past week had been especially taxing, while Vegeta analyzed every possible thing he could have been doing wrong, predicted every conceivable miscalculation, and scrutinized every action he had taken for the millionth time. But he couldn't find a way to draw out more power from within.

And so the prince had come out here, into the heart of one of the most powerful electrical storms this side of the planet had ever seen, in search of power he could draw from the outside.

It was a risky move, but Vegeta had nothing more to lose. He'd managed to find the highest point, closest to the electrical center of the storm, and all he had left to do was wait for the perfect opportunity to literally strike him. If he could somehow direct the energy of a burst of lightning through his own body, and combine it with his energy, he might be able to control enough power just long enough to open a wormhole. Or he might electrocute himself.

The prince dismissed the morbid thought as it occurred to him. It was a necessary risk.

"Come on, damn it," he hissed, his eyes locked on the swirling mass of dark clouds above him. "Strike me!"

Vegeta suddenly felt as if he were shouting to fate itself, which felt utterly ridiculous, but in his frustration the words kept pouring out of his mouth. "Strike me, damn you! You've never held back before! Come on, then! Show me what you've got! _Strike me!_"

There was a sudden silence that permeated the turbulent air, and Vegeta's eyes searched the heavens for the answer to his plea. But there was nothing—just the constant cyclone of inky black clouds above him. Minutes passed by, but they felt like days to him. Finally, Vegeta felt his unyielding resolve finally begin to crack.

And that's when he heard it.

A massive thunderclap exploded from the sky, and the Saiyan prince felt the air around him begin to sizzle with heat and electricity. He glanced up again just in time to see a blinding surge of light ripping its way through the clouds towards him. Vegeta grinned madly. For once, his prayers had been answered. He extended his hands and prepared harness the flood of energy that was racing towards him.

The lightning bolt struck him with a white, fiery burst, but the Saiyan welcomed it—channeled it into his own body—feeling the massive energy merge with his own. Vegeta felt it pulsing through his veins, reducing his combat gear to ashen rags, singeing the tips of his hair, and surging through his heart with a power that threatened to cook him alive. But his own energy just barely managed to contain that of the storm, and in that instant the prince felt more invincible than ever. Now was the time to attempt the technique.

Ignoring the burning sensation that had begun to envelope his flesh, Vegeta closed his eyes and concentrated on the energies floating just beyond a normal range of perception. His training had taught him to focus his energy on a signature similar to his own; theoretically, the rift would be balanced on both ends and wouldn't become unstable too soon. He searched, but no power level that matched his seemed to exist.

_Goddamn it! Of all the times for this to happen! _ thought the Saiyan in a panic. Nausea rose in his stomach as he felt his control slipping and his insides beginning to boil.

He couldn't keep this energy inside him for much longer, Vegeta decided. The heat—and the pain—were growing more and more intense by the instant. He needed to find a corresponding energy signature right now, or he feared he would explode. He felt the familiar shock course through every nerve in his body as he ascended into his Super Saiyan form, but he quickly realized that even his race's legendary transformation would only buy him a few more seconds before he was fried alive. Frantically, he pushed the intensifying pain to the back of his mind, dedicating all his willpower to concentrate on locating a suitable energy signature.

_Come on, come on…Yes! Found it!_

The Saiyan's eyes snapped open, and with a scream of both pain and sheer determination, he directed the energy forward. There was a sudden, intense release, and Vegeta felt the energy—both his own and the storm's—coursing through him. He never broke his focus on the matching energy signature, and he could feel the connection tentatively forming as a mass of light and energy exploded from his palms. It surged and swirled for an instant before imploding and forming a tiny, shimmering orb. He continued to cry out as he finally felt the connection breach the unseen gap between his universe and the next, and collapsed to the ground.

_Was…was that it? Did it work?_ Vegeta thought, panting and dripping with sweat.

Hesitantly, he glanced up at the gleaming orb. It was floating just a few feet from him, pulsing like the blood through the Saiyan's veins. It produced a buzzing noise that vibrated painfully loud in his ears. And as Vegeta watched with wonder and amazement, it began to grow in size with every pulsating throb. As it grew, the buzzing became more intense, and soon the prince could actually see inside the void.

The prince grinned as he watched the wormhole—his creation—glimmer and grow before his eyes. Yes, he had done it! He had achieved what Kakarrot could not do. He had finally proved that _he_ was the best, the most skilled, the strongest Saiyan warrior that had ever lived. Happiness, pride, and relief flooded his system. He was no longer second best.

Vegeta attempted to stand, but his knees buckled under the weight of his body, and the Saiyan realized that the wormhole was still stealing energy from him. Not only that, but it was growing much larger than he'd expected. Its edges swelled, the buzzing became a roar, and finally, the prince realized that he had made a fatal mistake.

It was sucking him into the void, and he had no strength left at all to drag himself away.

A sudden, icy fear seized Vegeta's heart, and he attempted once again to stand. But his muscles twitched and convulsed in protest under his skin, refusing to support his weight. His energy was completely zapped, and he collapsed again in a heap. Gasping, the Saiyan's mind raced to find a solution as he felt the gravity of the wormhole begin to pull his debilitated body towards it. He couldn't stop it, he realized grimly. He was helpless.

As the void consumed him, and Vegeta realized another critical miscalculation he had made. Between dimensions there was no atmosphere, so no air existed. A chill ran through him as he felt his lungs being robbed of the precious element. He attempted to scream, but his voice made no sound in the emptiness that surrounded him. The prince blinked over and over again in a vain attempt to see where he was, but stars were exploding across his vision. His muscles stiffened, aching for oxygen where none existed. Finally, a nauseating pressure pooled inside his skull, and even though he could still feel his eyelids opening and closing, the Saiyan saw nothing but blackness. Darkness and dread were consuming him.

_I'm dying_, Vegeta thought weakly.

He felt his mind begin to slow as his brain started to shut down. Random bits of information struggled to bridge the gaps between synapses in his brain. Flashes of memories and faces began to flicker in his head like dying candles illuminating the gloom. Other things that occurred to him seemed random and trifling: Vegeta suddenly remembered that today was his son's second birthday—a date he'd been anticipating for a long time before his obsession to master this technique had taken over. A twinge of guilt struck him when he realized that if this was indeed his end, he wouldn't be there to train Trunks, to guide him, or to see him grow into his full potential as a Saiyan warrior. He wondered regretfully if Trunks would even remember his father. He wondered what Bulma would say about him. The parts of his brain that were still struggling to survive compelled him to feel sorry that he had never told the woman how profoundly she had impacted his life. His Saiyan pride, which he prized above all else, had never allowed him to voice the very real feelings that had taken permanent residence in his heart.

Darkness steadily leaked into his brain, circling inside his skull like the clouds he'd been standing under only moments ago. He grew tired as death tightened its icy grip on him, the darkness overwhelmed his conscious, and one by one, the candles flickered out.

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**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

I know that was a very mean cliffhanger, but it was where there was a natural break in the story. Sorry, but you'll find out what happens to everyone's favorite Saiyan Prince very soon, I promise! Thanks for reading!

**Elleelle: **Yeah, Vegeta's not exactly the person who metaphorically tests the waters before diving in headfirst, especially when proving that he's better than Goku is involved. Thanks very much for your review! Hope you liked this chapter.

**Apollo1147:** Haha, I don't have a problem with your positive reviews! I'm glad you liked the humor I tried. Dragon Ball Z has mostly serious bits strung together with some humor, and so I tried to show that with my last chapter. This chapter was obviously back to the seriousness. Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I hope you like it as much as the previous installments! Thanks again for your continuous kind reviews!

**Jason9000: **Yup, considering that Goku's instant transmission technique came from Yardrat, I thought it'd make sense that another far out technique like the one I thought up could come from there as well. Actually, the idea came from watching the episode where Buu screams his way out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. I thought about how strong Buu was and how much force it must have taken to open up a wormhole like that, and then began researching and letting my imagination run wild. Again, expect the unexpected when it comes to where Vegeta will end up! Thanks for another great review; I appreciate your kindness immensely!

**Spirrow:** Yeah, I suppose my little note beforehand was bad advertising for my previous chapter. Thanks for _your_ honesty in your review! First of all, I'm glad that you say I set the bar very high with my first chapter; however, this also makes me hope my other chapters meet the same standards. I was surprised that you found errors—I actually read and reread that chapter over and over again—can't believe there were errors left that I didn't catch! I'll definitely know now to more carefully proofread. I'm happy to hear you liked my "Already gone" joke, because I was trying to imitate the humor from the show. However, because my style tends to be much more serious, I seriously thought about cutting that bit out. I'm glad I left it in now! Thanks again for your detailed review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Ness Frost:** Hey there! I'm very glad you decided to come and take a look at my story! I'm going to try to respond to each of your three reviews in one response: First, I'm glad my prologue was interesting enough to get you hooked right away. I'm glad you liked me representation of the relationship between Bulma and Trunks. Second, by "repercussions" I did mean Gohan, but I also meant Bulma, since I expect she wouldn't be too happy either. Ah, you were totally right about that sentence. I should have edited it. Thanks for catching it! I'm glad you enjoyed my characterization of Vegeta, since I try very hard to keep characters' personalities as close as possible to the original. Thanks very much! And lastly, as you can see now, the technique is very dangerous! Now you know why…now you just have to wait a little bit longer to find out where Vegeta will end up. Expect the unexpected, as always! Thanks very much for your review and your compliments! You are appreciated!


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Sad day.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so here's the next chapter. It's short, but my next chapters will become longer. I'm extremely anxious—to the point of anxiety—to see if people like what I've done. I hope you'll let me know what you thought—but be nice, folks! Thanks again for checking out my story!

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**CHAPTER FOUR**

_Age 768_

_August 9__th_

Vegeta was underwater.

He was floating in an abyss somewhere, looking up at the surface. A single bright light shone down from above, penetrating the darkness that surrounded him. He could feel the flow and ebb of the tide rocking his body. It was soothing, and the Saiyan prince closed his eyes in contentment.

Suddenly, there was a sharp tug on his leg. Vegeta's eyes popped open and glanced down, but he saw nothing but blackness below. He looked up and noticed that the surface was farther away. Something was trying to drag him downwards into the depths. Lifting his arms, he attempted to paddle through the water. He didn't want to be sucked into another dark void. He wanted to reach the surface—he wanted to reach for that light.

However, despite his best attempts at kicking his legs and paddling his arms, he felt some unseen force yank him down further. The light was getting fainter, and the prince began to feel the water grow cold. He felt another thing—pain. It bloomed inside his skull like a poisonous plant, and he wanted to scream as he felt himself sinking.

The light was nearly gone now, and the Saiyan suddenly felt something else. It was hard and cold against his back: He had sunk right down to the bottom, and now, it seemed he was stuck to it. His arms and legs suddenly refused to move, numb and frozen in the icy water. He stared into the inky blackness above him, straining to see the faint glimmer of light one more time. Vegeta was trapped in the darkness, his head pounding as if someone had hit it with a sledgehammer.

Suddenly, the glimmer of light shuddered, and became slightly brighter. The water's cloudiness cleared, and then the shudder abruptly became a blinding strobe. Vegeta blinked rapidly as shapes and colors began to slowly materialize in front of him, and he realized he wasn't underwater at all. He felt his chest rise and fall with his breath, and suddenly the memory of being violently pulled into the wormhole he'd created rushed back to him, along with another wave of pain.

The Saiyan prince blinked several more times, the blurry shapes gradually becoming more and more recognizable. They fell together like the pieces of a mosaic, and suddenly Vegeta realized that he was looking up at a collection of alien faces staring down at him.

"He's awakening," one of the faces remarked. "Better get the restraints on him."

"If he's anything like Lord Vegeta, restraints won't do a thing," countered another.

"It's true, they look almost identical. No wonder he wanted him alive."

"We've already tested his power level. His strength is nowhere near Lord Vegeta's right now, but if we don't get them on him now he could incinerate us!"

_Lord Vegeta? My father? What the hell is going on?_ Vegeta thought as the clouds in his mind cleared.

He should have been anticipating it, but the aliens' conversation had just been noise up until he felt several pairs of hands roughly grab him and attempt to clamp something hard, cold, and heavy around his forearms. The Saiyan prince snapped into action. His right hand shot out, the heel of his palm smashing into the face of the nearest alien. A strangled cry of pain leaked through his fingers, and the freshly dead body sank to the ground with a gruesome thud. With his other hand, he braced himself on the table he'd been lying on and lashed out his left leg. There was a sickening, satisfying crunch as it collided with the necks of two more aliens, who also dropped like stones. A fourth alien had managed to avoid the mighty kick, but was immediately disintegrated by a sizzling blue energy blast. Vegeta's eyes rapidly surveyed the room for any remaining threats, but he found none.

Panting and still struggling with the ebbing pain inside his head, the Saiyan lowered his hand and looked again at his surroundings. He noticed several familiar objects in the stark whiteness of the room. A rejuvenation chamber sat alone in the corner. It made a gurgling sound as the liquid contents of the chamber were purged, and for the first time since he awoke Vegeta realized that both what remained of his singed Saiyan armor and his hair were soaking wet. He'd been _in_ the chamber; his delusion of being underwater had not been entirely untrue.

Vegeta tried to catch his breath, but it seemed a futile effort. If he had been inside the rejuvenation chamber, why then did he still feel so weak? And where on Earth was he? A chill ran through him as he once again remembered what had happened when he had attempted to create a time-space rift and succeeded. He'd been sucked inside, and in the airless void, he recalled the agony as he felt himself slowly dying. The rift had stolen his energy, and Vegeta guessed that the fatigue he was feeling was somehow a repercussion of that fact. Perhaps the wormhole he'd passed through was in some way still affecting him.

_And yet, I'm still alive, _the Saiyan thought in bafflement_. But what is this blasted place?_

The room itself didn't look familiar, but its minimal style and the lack of color alluded to the ships and settlements of the Planet Trade Organization. Still confused, the prince turned his attention to the crumpled bodies of the aliens he had just dispatched, and his eyes widened. They were wearing a variation of Saiyan battle armor, and were obviously soldiers of some kind—not the medical personnel he'd been expecting. The prince stepped back in shock. Alien soldiers—in Saiyan battle armor? Where had the portal taken him?

_These weaklings mentioned something about a "Lord" Vegeta_, _but who—_

The prince's train of thought ground to a sudden halt as he suddenly realized another repercussion of having been sucked through the wormhole: Not only did he not know _where_ he was, he didn't know what age or date it was. He could be in any time period, as far as he knew.

_What if the rift took me into the past? _Vegeta marveled silently. _And they were referring to my father?_

It was possible, the Saiyan prince realized with a frightening clarity. More than possible—it made sense. Hadn't the aliens he'd killed mentioned something about his resemblance to their leader? Yes, they had—he remembered now. That fact, combined with the minions in Saiyan armor and the familiar architecture, made him almost certain that what he suspected was true.

_But I have to be sure…_Vegeta thought, his eyes scanning the room for any more possible clues.

The Saiyan examined the space from corner to corner, but aside from the rejuvenation chamber, a few other basic medical necessities, and the bodies on the floor, the room was unadorned and lacked any sort of detail that could give him a pliable answer.

He decided he'd have to go looking for one.

Vegeta approached the doorway out of the room, stepping lightly over the broken bodies of the alien soldiers. He peered cautiously around the corner—first left, and then right—his senses piqued. There were several weaker power levels heading in his direction. They were no threat to him, even in his oddly deteriorated state. He decided to stand there and wait, so he could get some answers from his next victims before he executed them.

_What a relief, _the Saiyan prince thought with a wicked grin, _to finally be able to kill something again!_

His contemplations were interrupted by the repetitive thuds of several footsteps heading his way, followed soon after by the emergence of some armored figures on his left, crowding the narrow hall. Many of them stopped and gawked strangely at him as soon as he came into their line of sight, requiring vigorous coaxing from their comrades to approach more closely. Vegeta watched the whole spectacle with interest. He'd seen many looks of fear in his time, but this was something more than just fear—it was recognition. It reconfirmed Vegeta's earlier suspicions. Although these fools seemed to be forgetting that his father was actually a great deal taller than he was, he knew that his semblance to the Saiyan king was striking. Coupled with the aura of power rippling off of his body, it was no wonder they were trembling in absolute fear. He smiled, pleased to once again have this effect.

At last, one soldier swallowed his fear and bravely stepped forward, cocking a weapon to his shoulder and pointing it at the Saiyan prince threateningly. Vegeta blinked, glancing at the weapon, and then back at the soldier. He didn't remember any of the Planet Trade mercenaries using a weapon that looked like that. His doubts slowly crept back, and he glowered at the soldier in front of him.

"Y-you!" the creature weakly demanded. "Whatever you are, stand down and—"

The idiot didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. The Saiyan prince leapt forward at unimaginable speed and landed a solid punch that crushed most of the soldier's face, killing him instantly. Many of the other soldiers screamed or gasped in protest, and began firing their weapons. Vegeta's aura of energy strengthened around him. The beams emitted from the strange guns struck him, but with his energy to shield him from their blasts, they felt like mere beestings to the prince. He flared his energy again with a shout, producing a wave of blinding light that threw the remaining soldiers backwards and warped the metal walls of the narrow corridor outward. Vegeta still felt slightly weaker than he should have, but his immense strength wouldn't be needed to interrogate and dispose of these cretins. He raised his arm, presenting his victims with a glowing palm.

"Now, I'm only going to ask you this once," he said with a sinister smirk, savoring the moment. "Where am I?"

No answer came—replaced instead with shouts and cries of pain. One soldier made the mistake of catching the Saiyan's eye while trying to scramble over his comrades to safety. Vegeta stepped forward, grabbed the alien's leg, flipped him upright, and trapped him against the wall.

"Last chance," he growled in a low, dangerous tone. "Where am I?"

The alien, a purple variety with a swollen cranium and stubby cylinders for ears, shook violently under the weight of Vegeta's hand against his throat. His yellow eyes darted wildly, and he struggled to formulate his next few words.

"Y-you're on New Planet Vegeta."

The Saiyan's brow furrowed, and he cast his eyes down to the ground in thought. _New _Planet Vegeta? That didn't sound right. He had to be on his home planet. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Frowning, Vegeta turned back to the alien trembling under his grip.

"You wear Saiyan armor," he said, his voice as sharp as the edge of a knife. "Whom do you serve?"

The alien began to whimper uncontrollably. "We—we serve…we serve…"

"Spit it out!" screamed the prince, his angry grimace contorting his features.

"We serve Lord Vegeta!" cried the soldier desperately. "We serve Lord Vegeta!"

Vegeta's eyes widened in interest, but the bloodlust in them did not lessen. "Lord Vegeta? You meant King Vegeta, the ruler of the Saiyans, didn't you? Tell me!"

Tears began to well up in the alien's eyes. "No…no…King Vegeta died long ago..."

"What?! You're bluffing!" Vegeta cried, enraged. "If the 'Lord Vegeta' you serve isn't my father, then _who_ could it possibly be?!"

The Saiyan prince increased the pressure on the alien's neck, intending to finish him. He watched as the alien's bulging eyes trailed past him and to his right, staring fixedly on something in his last moments of life. It was then that Vegeta realized—too late—that he felt an enormous power level rocketing towards him. Releasing his hold on the soldier's neck, he barely had time to turn his head before a black, white, and blue blur connected solidly with his face. The Saiyan slammed to the ground, his head violently connecting with the hard floor, blurring his vision. A millisecond later, he felt the excruciatingly painful pressure of a heavy boot on the back of his neck.

"Never send a soldier to do a Saiyan's job," his attacker snarled. "Restrain this imposter immediately."

Vegeta cursed silently, his anger flaring at his stupidity. He'd become so caught up in the nostalgia of striking fear into his victims that he hadn't realized another powerful energy source approaching. Once again, the Saiyan felt busy hands forcing his arms behind his back, clamping something onto his wrists, and this time he was utterly powerless to stop it. Whatever was being used to restrain him was heavy and block-shaped. It wasn't your average set of irons. As soon as they were snapped closed, the device hummed to life and Vegeta felt the power he had gathered since awakening suddenly drain away. The prince realized with horror that the restraints were absorbing his energy, effectively crippling him. A second later, the boot that had been pinning him to the floor was removed, but his attacker swiftly found another place for it in his gut. The violent kick flipped him over onto his back, and after struggling to regain his breath through the pain ripping through his insides, Vegeta looked up into the face of his captor.

He couldn't help the audible gasp that escaped his lips when he locked eyes with the person standing over him. He froze in disbelief, feeling as if every nerve in his body had turned to stone.

Two dark eyes burned into his own, their expression calculating and cold. Vegeta recognized them, and a sickening feeling dug its way into his gut. His eyes wide in shock, and he scanned the figure in front of him, but every detail—the permanent scowl, the dark hair standing upright, the Saiyan armor—confirmed the impossible: The eyes he was staring into, and the ones that were glowering back, were _not_ his father's. They were his _own_.

It was as if he was staring into a mirror.

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**REVIEWER RESPONSES:**

So now you know why the story is called "Imperfect Symmetry."

This will be the last time I have my reviewer responses at the end of a chapter to my story. From now on, if you review my story and are a member of , you can expect a response as a private message. I decided to do this to increase my efficiency as an author; it's much easier to reply to one review at a time than do them all at once, especially when I'm eager to post my next chapter. I've also found that it's a better communicative tool than what I was previously doing, since my reviewers and I can have entire conversations through private messaging.

THANK YOU to all who read and reviewed, as well as to those who added me or my story to their favorites and alerts lists. I am—as always—enormously appreciative of your continued support.

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**Demod20:** Thank you, I'm very happy you enjoyed. Also, I have to say, I love your sense of humor. Your reviews made me laugh out loud more than once! Thanks! I did keep Cell alive in the future for a reason, but I don't think it's the reason most people will expect. You'll have to wait to see! I'm glad you thought I characterized Trunks (both the young man from the future and the baby in the present) well. That scene in the first chapter between Bulma and Vegeta was fun to write, because they are such strong personalities—you know there will always be some kind of conflict between them, even if it's trivial. Also, I'm so happy that you applauded my inclusion of Krillin in this—what you said about him having all the answers but nobody to ask him the right questions is so true. He's actually becoming one of the characters I'm most fond of, despite not really being a main character in my story. Thanks ever so much for your review, forum buddy! LOL.

**Apollo1147:** Wow, thank you so much for your compliments; I'm very flattered. I'm very happy to hear that my description of the wormhole theory was understandable. I'm also extremely happy to hear that my word choice and my use of it is satisfactory. Sometimes, as an English teacher, I worry that my descriptive passages can become too "wordy" and can bog down the narrative. Thanks for letting me know that's not the case. Thank you, thank you, for reviewing faithfully and for your kind words. They mean so much.

**Jason9000:** Hey there, my friend! Thanks for the review. Yeah, Vegeta thinking he could control the energy from a bolt of lightning was his usual arrogance getting the best of him—what a surprise, eh? As you can now see, however, he didn't suck himself into the future. I hope the surprise wasn't a disappointment. I have many things in mind for Vegeta before we find out how he got into Trunk's universe. After all, this story is overall going to follow his character's arch towards a dramatic change in values, and in order for a change to take place, many drastic things must occur. One of them, which I hope is clear now, is to face the person he could have become if past events had turned out differently. My story is going to take a turn for the dark and angsty in the next few chapters, so I hope you enjoy that kind of style. Thanks once again for your review!

**Elleelle:** Hey there again! Thanks for reviewing once more; I appreciate it. Well—as this chapter also may have shown you—I have a fondness for cliffhangers. I love them. Hate them as a reader, but can't write enough of them as a writer. I hope that this chapter did not disappoint and that you're not too upset with me over a second cliffhanger! Thanks again!

**Aleaster: **Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you like the shape the story is taking, and hope you've enjoyed the rest of it so far. I'm also glad you think my writing and characterization is sensible and is done well! Thanks very much!

**Ness Frost: **I've already PM'ed you, but it can't hurt to thank you a few more times here for catching the mistakes I made and giving me the chance to correct them in the near future! I'm appreciative to have a reviewer who is as dedicated to quality as I am! I didn't mention this in the PM, but AWESOME vocabulary in your last review! "Eldritch abominations" is a phrase I may have to borrow from you to use in a future chapter or story. Thanks very much for your continued support, constructive criticism, and kindness!

**Full Power:** Hey there, my friend! Since you were so kind to leave me this review, I'll express my thanks with my own rendition of Yamcha's cat food song:

ROSE LOVES REVIEWS, YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH!

Haha, thanks very much for your kind words. I'm glad you found my characterization accurate. And no, hearing the characters speak in your head while reading is not a sign of craziness, because I do it too…um…wait…(LOL!). I'm very happy to hear that you like my portrayal of Vegeta. As I was telling Jason9000, this story will follow his character's arch towards a drastic change in his values, so I hope as you read on that you continue to feel the same way as the story progresses. Thanks very much for your review! And your more than welcome for the help with your chapter cover. : )

**Drakthul:** You've already heard a little bit from me about how happy I was that you enjoyed reading my story. I'm both flattered and honored that you find my characterization accurate, especially if you don't like most Vegeta-centric stories. Bulma's characterization, for one thing, wasn't something I thought about as deeply as you seemed to in your review, but you have given me new insight that I'll definitely consider in the future. She did somewhat trap herself in what you described as a "cage" when she fell for Vegeta, and was suffering for it in the previous chapter. Glad you liked my interpretation of her, however shallow it was. As for Vegeta's characterization…ah, where to begin? What I love most about Vegeta—beside being a total bada** and just fun to watch onscreen—is that he's so terribly flawed, he struggles terribly to overcome those flaws throughout the series, and he makes mistakes. But he just _refuses_ to give up.

I find it incredibly interesting that Akira Toriyama used alien characters to show us the full spectrum of the human psyche in Dragon Ball Z. Goku is the goodness that I believe is inherent inside all of us, the idealist, and undoubtedly the hero of the series. And although I appreciate him for the qualities he provides, Vegeta is unquestionably more interesting in my opinion because most people are not as dependably selfless and good-natured as Goku is. Vegeta (at least at the point in which I introduce him in the series) represents the conflicts we all experience. He's selfish, arrogant, and stubborn, all of which are very human qualities that most people struggle with from time to time. He's constantly being tugged between giving into his most basic impulses and doing the right thing. He's also having an extremely hard time figuring out his purpose and identity—again, a phase most people pass through at least once in their lifetime. And as I've already told Jason9000 and Full Power, this story will attempt to show how his character progresses to accept his new identity as a defender of Earth and adopt a new set of values. I'm going to try as hard as I can to maintain the integrity of the character as I write. But it's going to take some extraordinary looks into what could have been in order to get him to change.

In conclusion, I'm honored to have found a way onto your exclusive favorites list. I'm also really enjoying reading "The Catalyst", so I'm appreciative to have support from an author who also values creativity and quality in the same way I do. Thanks again!

**Mystic Milli: **Hey there! Thanks for taking the time to read my story. I'll be checking out your story over the weekend—expect a review by the end of tomorrow! Thanks for your compliments; I'm glad it hooked you right away. I hope that my narrative continues to draw your interest. My characterization, in particular, is something I've always taken pride in—and I try hard to keep everything believable. Vegeta's selfishness and arrogance is a struggle sometimes, but he's such a fun character to write that I forgive him for giving me difficulty every once in a while. Thanks again for your kind review!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Sad day.

**Author's Note:** Since it's set in a separate dimension, this chapter deals with alternate versions of the same character, and it quickly became an unbeatable, terrible monster of a chapter that I wrestled with for a ridiculously long time. It became almost a daily struggle for me to sit down determined to write this chapter, sit there for a while frustrated, and then give up after an hour or two of writing nothing of good quality. It has nearly killed my motivation for this story, but I'm determined to go on…and feedback helps. So if you enjoy the story, please leave a review for me. Like it or not, reviews, praise, and constructive criticism helps to motivate me.

Thanks to those who have been consistently reviewing and offering critiques, constructive criticism, and praise. You keep me going guys, and you are lovely!

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_Age 768_

_August 9th_

Two mirror images, one sprawled on the ground and the other standing menacingly overhead, examined each other. Vegeta swallowed, wondering if he had wandered into a nightmare. But as he blinked in shock at the figure standing over him, he became despairingly more and more certain that what was happening to him was real. The warrior who had attacked him, and who had now taken him prisoner, _was himself_. As he gawked in utter disbelief, his counterpart's eyes only showed mild surprise as he raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"I'm disappointed," the other Vegeta commented, speaking more to himself than to his soldiers. "All this stirring gossip about finding a clone of myself, and when I finally get down here it's not even a very good copy."

Vegeta hissed, his disbelief quickly transforming into rage. "Copy? How dare you! Let me go, you goddamned—"

There was a nauseating crunch, and the restrained Saiyan's words were cut off by his doppelganger's fist collided solidly with his jaw. Vegeta's vision exploded with stars, and he tasted the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. The sheer force of the blow nearly knocked him out cold.

"Whatever the hell you are," the other Vegeta snarled threateningly, "you'll speak when spoken to, and when you speak you'll address me as 'Lord Vegeta,' understand? Pick him up."

Two soldiers flanked Vegeta and roughly hoisted him upright, and he stared into his counterpart's eyes. It was as if he was looking into a mirror, aside from the differences in their clothing. He was still dressed in his singed blue bodysuit and armor Bulma had designed for him, he was still sopping wet, and now as an added bonus he had a thin rivulet of blood leaking from between his lips. His matching counterpart—or _Lord_ Vegeta, as he had demanded to be called—was pristine, wearing a variation of classic Saiyan armor, with flared shoulder pads and a voluminous red cape attached at the shoulders. The Vegeta Royal Family crest was stamped on the left side of his chest plate. His doppelganger studied him in return, an unpleasant scowl crossing his features. As soon as Vegeta was steady on his feet again, the other Saiyan's hand lashed out and hurled him violently against the wall. He cried out as he felt several ribs crack upon contact, and the wind was knocked out of him for the second time in just a span of a few minutes. It was pitiful, but he was helpless. The device they had clamped around his wrists was robbing him of his energy, making it impossible to transform into a Super Saiyan or break the bonds. Several more lightning-fast punches were directed at his stomach, and as he doubled over, his attacker seized his face and forced him upright again, smashing the back of his head against the wall. Vegeta choked and coughed up another thick gob of blood, nearly blinded by the pain.

"That is just a fraction of the agony I'll make you feel if you're uncooperative," he heard Lord Vegeta growl. "Now, you have about ten seconds to start explaining what in the _hell_ you are and where you came from, and for every ten seconds I have to wait after that, I'm going to rip something off."

Still reeling in anguish, Vegeta hesitantly cracked his eyes open. His double was intently glaring at him, scrutinizing him from only inches away. Every torturous breath brought a new wave of pain, but with it came clarity, and he suddenly realized what had happened: When the wormhole had sucked him in, it hadn't deposited him in another time period; it had taken him into another dimension entirely. The doppelganger staring at him wasn't actually a doppelganger at all: It _was_ him, but an alternate version of himself from another world entirely, where the events of his life had clearly played out differently. And if there was anything Vegeta knew about himself, it was that he would make good on his threat to start tearing off limbs. Self-preservation became his priority.

"Well, first of all…there's no way in hell I'm going to call you…_Lord_ Vegeta. Secondly…I am not a clone_,_" the restrained prince gasped as he struggled to fill his bruised lungs with air. "You…you and I are the same person…from different dimensions."

Lord Vegeta's eyes widened for a moment, betraying his surprise, but then narrowed.

"What kind of a fool do you think I am?" he shouted furiously, kneeing his captive in the ribs in retaliation. "Lie again to me, and I swear it will be your last!"

Vegeta felt several more ribs buckle under the explosive force of his counterpart's kick, and he coughed violently, spurting blood on himself and his attacker.

"It's…it's no lie," he wheezed, and he bravely met his opposite's eyes, smirking confidently. "Go ahead…kill me if you don't believe me."

Vegeta's doppelganger's eyes became huge with rage, and the prince prayed that his words would take the intended effect. He frowned when the other Saiyan drew his hand back, a ball of energy already throbbing with deadly power nestled between his gloved fingers. The seconds that followed lingered for hours, as his mirror image glared back at him. Vegeta knew very well the violent thoughts that were likely running through his counterpart's head, and he knew that he was taking a massive risk in angering him. But he believed that he could talk his way out of this. More any other adversary, he understood and could predict his own thought processes, his strengths, and his weaknesses. There was a reasonable chance he could manipulate his alternate-dimension twin long enough to get him to remove these strange energy-depleting shackles, and then he'd make his move and escape. Thankfully, the fury in Lord Vegeta's eyes dissolved, and the crackling energy in his hand disappeared.

"Trying to antagonize me into killing you quickly, are you?" he asked, a dark glint in his eyes. "Very clever, but it won't work."

"Fair enough," replied Vegeta with an air of false confidence. "I can't think of a more screwed up way to commit suicide."

This comment earned him a dark chuckle from his doppelganger. "You've managed to arouse my curiosity. A clone might have identical DNA, but no scientist can replicate _my_ impressive wit. However, I require more than just your word that what you say is true."

"Let me out of these shackles, and I'll be _more_ than happy to prove to you that I'm not a science experiment."

The other Vegeta snickered at this, but then his expression froze over and he tightened his grip on the other Saiyan's face. His voice sunk into a low, malevolent hiss. "Nice try, but I wasn't born yesterday. I'll give you only _one _chance to prove you're who you say you are: You'll have to answer a question about me, and if you answer correctly, you'll live long enough for me to ask the next question."

Vegeta's sureness vanished instantly. "But we come from alternate dimensions—how am I to know the details of a life that's different from my own—"

He was suddenly cut off by yet another powerful blow to his gut.

His counterpart leaned close, a sinister smirk creasing his features. "Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

Vegeta hacked up yet another wad of blood into his mouth, the metallic taste nearly making him gag. Grimacing at his doppelganger, he spat it out onto the floor below. He didn't have a choice. The prince was at his counterpart's mercy, and Vegeta's name hadn't become famous throughout the galaxy because he was merciful. He doubted that his opposite would give him any more chances if he answered a question wrong. Swallowing his doubts, the Saiyan curved his lips into an identical smirk and once again feigned confidence.

"Ask away," he relented.

"Very well," Lord Vegeta responded, and he relaxed his iron grip on the other Saiyan's face, biding his sweet time. Vegeta watched him intently, reading the emotions behind his eyes. His identical counterpart was enjoying this—it was like a game to him—and the prince knew that had their situations been reversed, he would be enjoying it just the same. Finally, Lord Vegeta spoke, and the other Saiyan held his breath.

"Where did I get this scar?"

Vegeta watched as his opposite's free hand rose up and pointed out a barely visible scar on his forehead, just outside his hairline. The indentation was so small, it could barely qualify as a scar at all; it had occurred so very long ago and now was a minor imperfection that even a person who had known him for years wouldn't notice. But luckily for the beaten-down prince, he knew exactly what had happened.

Vegeta felt a genuine smile tugging at his lips as he answered, "Dodoria split my head open the first day I mouthed off to him."

His counterpart blinked, and his grip on the other Saiyan grew looser still in his surprise. Clearly he hadn't anticipated Vegeta answering correctly. Seeing this made the prince's ego swell, and against his better judgment, he began to venture into dangerous terrain.

"What? Didn't think I'd get that one? Go on, ask another question."

"Fine," grunted Lord Vegeta, his smirk now wiped clean. In its place was a mixture of confusion, suspicion, and disbelief. This time, he chose his question slowly and carefully.

"What happened…immediately after Dodoria beat me?"

Vegeta's grin faltered, but it didn't vanish completely. "I—I hid in the ship's engine room and cried for an hour straight. And afterward, I felt so ashamed that I went right back and mouthed off to him again so he'd beat the hell out of me as a way to punish myself."

Lord Vegeta's mouth gaped open for a moment, before clenching back into a furious snarl. Vegeta understood his shock; he rarely revealed the details of his life from when he'd been forced to be a child slave under Frieza's rule to anyone—even Bulma—and he had never told another soul about the incident that earned him the faint scar on his forehead. It had been the first—and only—time he'd shed tears while in enslaved by Frieza: The young prince had forgotten his place, and had called Dodoria something derogatory. The pink alien made sure the brat would remember not to do it again by repeatedly smashing the five-year-old's head against the wall until he bled. When Vegeta came back an hour later, nursing a split skull and swollen eyes, Dodoria was astonished to be insulted by the pint-sized Saiyan once more. However, in his immense stupidity, the fuchsia-hued monster simply assumed that the young prince had been too concussed to remember his earlier lesson, and was happy to provide an even more painful second. Vegeta had never revealed that the additional beating had been a deliberate method meant to teach himself never to show such a pathetic display of weakness again.

Vegeta chuckled, even as another trickle of blood spilled from between his lips. He'd successfully turned the tables on his doppelganger.

"What? Didn't expect me to know that little secret of ours, did you?" he gloated. "I told you before—we're the same person, just from different worlds. Like two sides of the same coin."

Lord Vegeta released his hold on the other, letting the restrained Saiyan sink against the wall. "Remarkable," he whispered, the sharp blade of suspicion still in his voice. "Why are you here?"

"Why, indeed?" Vegeta said with another sneer spread wide across his face. "I'd be happy to answer more of your questions, as soon as these cuffs are removed."

He was abruptly slammed against the wall again.

"I will _not_ take those shackles off you," Lord Vegeta hissed. "Just because we're the same person doesn't mean I trust you. In fact, it's probably more reason _not_ to trust you. Why should I even let you _live_?"

Vegeta ceased his little game, and his eyes darkened. He should have known—his alternate dimension persona was just as distrusting as he was. It would take a lot more work to get his counterpart to let him go free. He searched his strategic mind for another approach to manipulate his way out of this situation. Finally, an idea sparked inside his head, and he smirked. It was a gamble, but Vegeta knew if he played his cards right, it was almost guaranteed to work in his favor.

"If you're anything like me, there are few—if any—warriors that still exist in the universe that can offer you a proper challenge," he began. "Let me recover my full strength, and then we can fight. I'd love to have the chance to test my limits."

Vegeta looked up to read the expression spreading across his counterpart's face. As expected, Lord Vegeta seemed to be mulling it over. And as expected, it didn't take him very long to decide.

"Now I'm certain we're the same person," he said with a twisted smile. "Very well, I will keep you around for a while longer, if not just to satisfy my curiosity. But you'll be my prisoner, not my guest."

Vegeta grunted in approval, while his doppelganger turned his head and shouted to his minions, who had wandered some distance away. "You there, grab him."

Two soldiers flanked the battered Saiyan again, heaving him up roughly. He winced in pain as some of his broken ribs dug into his insides, but was forced to walk directly behind his counterpart while he sauntered down the white hall. As they navigated through the twisted corridors, Vegeta studied his double with scrutinizing eyes.

_Lord Vegeta?_ he thought bitterly. _How the hell did that come about?_

The Saiyan prince couldn't help but feel slighted by destiny. Obviously, something had gone right for him on this side of the wormhole. _This_ Vegeta had more than just a different designation; he had _power_, and the breadth of which was nothing to scoff at. If what that pitiful soldier he'd attacked was correct, his doppelganger had acquired and resurrected Planet Vegeta, and judging from the array of energy signatures Vegeta was now feeling around them, his double commanded a formidable army of alien soldiers. Most important, however, was the way his very presence struck obvious terror into his inferiors. The soldiers dragging Vegeta along never looked his caped counterpart in the eye, even when he addressed them directly, and cowered in his shadow even when his back was turned.

Jealousy flared in Vegeta's chest. In his world, he'd been reduced to the equivalent of a mad dog on a short leash; his sentimental attachments to the Earth had made him soft and turned him into a joke of his former self. Something had happened on this plain of existence that had drastically altered his destiny, but what was it?

"Hey, you!" he called out towards his identical counterpart. "I don't recognize any of this! What the hell happened in this universe?"

The other Saiyan shot him a glance over his armored shoulder, an unpleasant grimace crossing his features. Vegeta knew it was because he didn't like the way he was addressing him, but he didn't care at the moment. He just wanted to understand what his doppelganger had done to achieve all _this_.

"I presume you mean to ask how I became 'Lord' Vegeta, as opposed to…" Lord Vegeta's voice trailed off as his eyes surveyed the sorry state of his captive's dress, "…whatever _you _are."

"I'm the most powerful warrior in my universe; make no mistake about that!" Vegeta hissed angrily. "And I want to know where I am! Now stop fooling around and tell me!"

"You don't know?" the identical Saiyan said with a smirk. "The Planet Trade Organization _does _exist where you come from, right?"

Vegeta scowled. His double had turned his own inquiries on their head and was now the one interrogating him. He didn't like this, but in order to get the answers he wanted, he had to play along.

"It did," he answered reluctantly, "until Frieza and his idiotic family got themselves killed."

Vegeta felt an icy chill as his doppelganger's cold and calculating gaze fell on him one more time, before he smirked knowingly and turned away again. They continued to march down the empty corridors in silence, until they finally halted in front of a closed door. Lord Vegeta turned to face his identical prisoner before he punched in a code on a keypad and the door slid open.

"Glad to hear that bastard Frieza met his end in more than one universe," he said, walking through the doorway. There was a twinge of wickedness in his voice. "But you see, in my universe the Planet Trade Organization didn't end with the death of Frieza or his family…because _I_ took it over."

Vegeta's breath caught in his throat as he was led on by the soldiers, and he stared at his counterpart in disbelief. _He_ was the leader of the Planet Trade Organization? That was too good to be true. He must have imagined this scenario a million times in his head when he was merely a slave in Frieza's massive army. Vegeta, the ruler of a galactic empire—it was exactly as it should have been in his world. He felt another twinge of jealousy and self-loathing permanently settle into his gut.

They entered a wide room with vaulting ceilings and a massive window looking out over the landscape. It became definite to Vegeta that wherever he was, it was in fact a planet, and one that had clearly been overtaken by the Planet Trade recently. As far as his eyes could see, rubble covered the ground, dust and debris swirled in the air, and the tiny figures of soldiers and mercenaries dotting the horizon. Black rings of circling smoke billowed up from the ashen remains of buildings, and blood and bodies littered the ground, thoughtlessly kicked aside by the bustling mass of soldiers. Beyond that, he saw one medium-sized sun glaring down from a sky streaked with crimson. The prince's eyes darted back and forth, taking in what he saw and wildly attempting to process it.

_No, this can't be_…Vegeta thought, a sudden fear gripping him_…this looks just like…_

Meanwhile, his counterpart swept out his hand towards the scene in a mockingly grandiose gesture, a gleefully evil smile spreading across his features.

"Welcome to New Planet Vegeta," he declared. "Perhaps you know it by its former name: 'Earth.'"

* * *

**LAST MINUTE NOTES:**

For those of you who have followed this story since last chapter was posted, you'll notice I decided to change the order of the words in the title: "Planet New Vegeta" to "New Planet Vegeta." To my ears, it just sounds better, and it's been changed in chapter four as well.

Just a little note about the plot: Up until this point, everything Vegeta has been experiencing has been something he'd desired for years, only to his considerable dismay he's an intruder in his own dream and another has his place. Now that he realizes that this ravaged planet is actually Earth, his experience is becoming more like a nightmare, and Vegeta will begin to realize the dire consequences of his dream, and it will begin to change him.

Next chapter, I'll reveal more about what exactly is the difference between the canon and alternate universe, including the Planet Trade takeover of Earth. Also—tiny spoiler here—another character is going to make an appearance! You'll see next chapter who it is!


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **First of all, let me **apologize profusely** for this chapter being so late. I really thought I'd had it, but then my muse just completely died and needed several weeks of resuscitation.

For all those who left me reviews—I thank you **so much**. Your comments made me so happy, and although it took me a while to get past my writers block, they inspired me as well.

For all my readers—thank you for your unending patience. I realize after the mean cliffhanger I left at the end of chapter five that it was a long wait. But, you get an **extra-long** chapter as a reward for your patience: Almost 5,000 words!

Thank you!

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

_Age 768_

_August 9__th_

_This…this is Earth?_

Vegeta's initial fear melted into confusion. As he stared out beyond the glass at the charred landscape that bled into the impending sunset, the thought seemed to make sense to him, and at the very same time seemed utterly absurd. The Saiyan's eyes scanned the horizon for anything he would recognize, but aside from the familiar blazing oranges and reds in the sky, the only thing he saw were the crumpled bodies of the planet's inhabitants. They had been crushed, burnt, torn apart, slashed, stabbed—examples of every conceivable way to kill a human was in front of him. Vegeta felt shock, but he felt no empathy. He didn't know these humans.

Suddenly, Bulma's face flashed through his mind. The twinge of fear returned, and it was stronger than ever before. Was she out there, among the twisted piles of bodies? Vegeta felt the unexpected jaws of nausea bite into him, but his terrifying revelations were interrupted by the sound of his own voice, speaking to him.

"So, you _do_ know Earth."

Only then did Vegeta notice his counterpart's heated gaze boring into him, and he turned to meet the stare, forcing his face into an expressionless mask. He'd been careless—stupid—to allow his emotions to take hold of him like that, even if Bulma was involved. Still, the possibility of Bulma dead amongst the carnage sickened him, and he knew he'd reacted physically to the thought. Clearly his doppelganger had noticed.

"What happens to Earth and its pathetic inhabitants doesn't concern me," he lied with considerable effort, and he forced a smirk onto his face. "You made short work of the place, I see."

Lord Vegeta's smile did not waver, but darkness filled his eyes. "Naturally," he breathed.

"And the inhabitants didn't give you any trouble?"

Vegeta watched as the identical Saiyan broke their stare and turned to admire his work. "There are still a few miniscule pockets of human resistance, but if you're talking about Kakarot and his pathetic little friends, most have been properly disposed of."

"Kakarot's dead?" Vegeta blurted, before he could stop himself.

His counterpart glanced at him, his nonchalant demeanor dissolving to reveal an angry scowl. Vegeta struggled once again to remain stoic and unaffected as they glared.

"Yes, Kakarot is dead," his double confirmed. "But unfortunately I was denied my right to kill him."

Vegeta's brow furrowed. "Who did it?"

"There was no 'who'," Lord Vegeta divulged unhappily, looking away. "It was a blasted virus of some kind that struck Kakarot down, not any warrior."

Vegeta was careful this time to show no response, though he was reeling inside. So…this world wasn't completely different. It still shared similarities to the one he'd come from. After all, Kakarot was supposed to have died from a heart virus in his dimension, until Trunks came back in time and intervened by giving him the antidote. He continued to gawk at his counterpart, who was gazing out the massive window, as the pieces of the puzzle slowly knit together in his brain. Obviously, he'd never had offspring with Bulma in this world, and therefore that child never got the chance to grow up and come back in time to prevent Kakarot's illness and death.

Vegeta grew silent, and so did the questions in his head. His mind was on fire with the news: Kakarot was dead, Bulma might be dead, Trunks didn't even exist…he didn't really care about any of the others. But for those three people…he felt the sting of grief inside him. Bulma was his—his mate, he supposed. She was the faint flicker of light in the prince's recently, dark, shadowy life, despite her unrivaled ability to annoy him, and as he thought more about her he felt a deep, lingering pain take root. Kakarot's death, as difficult as it was to admit, was nearly as tragic. Vegeta realized with a sudden clarity that he no longer desired to kill Kakarot—only to surpass him in power. He actually felt a little relief knowing that he'd not been the one to kill him in this world.

"I take your surprise to mean that Kakarot is still alive in your universe," said Lord Vegeta. He turned towards the other Saiyan, his eyes glinting with a dark and dangerous presence.

Vegeta stared defiantly back at his doppelganger. He wasn't going to let any of his own glares and glowers intimidate him. Both he and his counterpart were trying to get information without revealing it, and right now they were at a stalemate in their twisted little mind game. The air crackled between the two identical warriors, the subject of Kakarot's death a deadweight in their conversation.

Finally, Lord Vegeta's lips curved into a smile. "If Earth is not destroyed in your universe, if you are not the overseer of the Planet Trade, and if Kakarot isn't dead, then what use are you? Can you even call yourself a Saiyan anymore?"

Vegeta lowered his eyebrows and snarled, "Kakarot's dead in my world too, you fool. He's unimportant. Don't presume that I'm weak just because I'm not pouring out my tender little heart like you are. You'll find out all you'll need to know about me when we fight."

For a moment, Lord Vegeta looked as if he were going to lunge forward and try to break the other's neck right then. His gloved fists clenched together, and the air around his body hissed with an unseen heat. Vegeta boldly stared back, confident and quiet. Just when his counterpart looked about to burst, he sucked up a breath and forced another wicked smile.

"I must admit, I'm quite surprised by how much I don't like you," he breathed.

"Likewise," Vegeta responded immediately, his eyes narrowing.

His doppelganger returned an identical grimace. "Tomorrow night we'll fight, and then we'll see which of us is truly worthy of our name. There can only be one Vegeta."

Although Vegeta agreed, he pressed his mouth into a tight, thin line. His temper was boiling over and a string of obscenities and insults were burning on the tip of his tongue, but he had to continue to remind himself that he was at his counterpart's mercy. He wanted to battle his doppelganger, to show how vastly superior he really was, and to watch his counterpart's confidence wither away as he did it. Unfortunately, until that happened, he was trapped in the role of the captive, the prisoner, the weaker part, while the identical Saiyan spouted arrogance and fallacious self-assurance at his expense. The Saiyan prince clenched his jaw shut and reluctantly broke their fiery stare, every moment of silence a painful blow to his pride—but a necessary tactic to guarantee that he'd live long enough to prove his counterpart wrong. S

eemingly satisfied with his captive's silence, Lord Vegeta threw some quick glances at his soldiers, who began to cower under his gaze.

"Take him to the cellar," he commanded them, gesturing with one hand back towards the door from whence they came. "He can keep our other 'guest' company."

Vegeta's ears perked up at the mention of another individual, even as he was roughly dragged away. He heard his doppelganger's footfalls plod on behind him, and felt the heat of his opposite's gaze on his back. Vegeta was disappointed—if his doppelganger would only leave him alone with his soldiers, he might have a chance to break free and escape despite his restraints and the energy they stole from him. This time, however, he was the one being scrutinized as they again weaved their way through the maze of white halls. He knew that the other Saiyan was analyzing everything he did—the stride in his step, the way he carried himself—in an attempt to identify any weakness. They began to descend, heading down several staircases, until they reached a dimly lit and noticeably less white portion of the compound. There was one small hallway, covered in mold and stains that looked suspiciously like dried blood and body fluid. At the end of the hall, there was one lonely cell without bars, with a dirty, crouching figure huddled in its corner.

Vegeta tried desperately to remain expressionless as he recognized the person inside the cell. He felt someone behind him, and suddenly his doppelganger's voice rang out in his ears. The sad, broken creature in the cell visibly jumped at the sound and pressed their body further into the corner. The person's eyes shakily looked up at them, and the prince thought he'd never seen a look of hatred so potent—followed swiftly by a look of utter terror when the prisoner realized they were seeing double.

"Don't remove his restraints," demanded Lord Vegeta. "We'll take no chances with this one."

"I'm flattered," Vegeta commented, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"Move," demanded his captor, and the soldiers flanking Vegeta immediately stepped back.

The Saiyan prince attempted to turn around to face his counterpart, but he was again a victim of the chunky and heavy device clamped around his arms. Without his energy, he moved ridiculously slowly—it was as if he was trying to walk through sand. With a final, triumphant smirk, his doppelganger reached out with two fingers, poked him in the chest and abruptly shoved forward. Vegeta was already off balance, and he toppled over easily. As he fell, he felt his body pass through some kind of energy barrier; it felt like he was diving through the surface of a body of water, except there was air on both sides. There was a crackle and a hiss, and red shimmer identified that the barrier was anchored across the entire span of the opening to the cell. Once his body had fallen completely through, it snapped back into place with a loud thwack and became invisible again. He landed with a thud and a grunt on his back, next to the terrified prisoner.

"This energy barrier is coded to recognize the DNA of anyone who passes through it," Lord Vegeta explained. "And it won't let anything that passes through come back the opposite way unless I allow it."

"You're truly a fool if you believe this cell will hold me," Vegeta growled.

"You're welcome to try to escape," his counterpart replied, unconcerned and confident. "The entire cellar is located under a massive lake, so if you attempt to break through another way, you'll drown, especially with those shackles binding you and your energy."

Vegeta clumsily found his footing and stood up, launching himself against the invisible barrier. It sent him tumbling back with another loud snap, as his doppelganger watched with an amused expression.

"If you don't believe me, ask him," he said, gesturing a gloved hand towards the other inhabitant of the cell. "He's been in this cell for—how long has it been?"

Vegeta glanced at the figure in the corner. His face was obscured by his mane of shaggy black hair, but then the prisoner lifted his head, locking eyes with his captor. Again, Vegeta was taken aback at the amount of hate he saw concentrated into one glare.

"Go to hell," the prisoner whispered, his voice quivering.

Lord Vegeta burst into a sudden, maniacal laughter, as if his captive had cracked a hilarious joke. When he'd finished, his gaze froze over and his voice became as cold and sharp as a razor blade.

"That's the kind of language that got both of your arms broken," he hissed. "Shall I smash your legs too?"

The prisoner's eyes held fast against the tyrant's icy glare for a moment longer, before relenting and dropping to the floor. He fell into a silent surrender.

"You're in luck—it so happens that I have to save my strength," Lord Vegeta said as he shifted his gaze to his double. "Tomorrow night—ready or not, we'll see who is strongest."

Vegeta got up again and walked straight up to the energy barrier, his eyes burning into that of his counterpart's with the intensity of an inferno. He inhaled and exhaled, his heated breath forming a vapor, which made the barrier crackle and zap between the two identical Saiyans.

"Looking forward to it," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

His mirror image simply granted his two prisoners one more wicked smile in response, and then turned and sauntered down the hallway, his red cape fluttering lazily behind him. He didn't turn back.

Vegeta felt the fire of rage rise inside his chest, and he cracked his fists—shackles and all—against the energy barrier. It snapped his limbs back towards him with a force that nearly dislocated his shoulders and made the prince stumble, but he kept on his feet this time. However, the sight of his double swaggering confidently away enraged the Saiyan prince, and he couldn't help hurling himself towards the energy barrier one last time. There was another loud snap in his ears and this time he was thrown all the way to the back of the cell, his spine slamming forcefully against the stone, cracking it slightly. Vegeta stumbled forward, but once again managed to keep on his feet despite the ridiculously heavy shackles that bound him. Panting and gritting his teeth madly, he stared back out into the hallway beyond the barrier. His doppelganger was gone.

It was just him and the child.

Vegeta whipped around as best he could, throwing his enflamed gaze down onto Kakarot's son. Gohan's widened, fear-rimmed eyes immediately looked away, ducking his head and hiding his petrified expression underneath his black, unkempt hair. The boy hugged his mangled arms to his chest, his knees curling up under his chin. He sat there, scrunched into the smallest possible space his body could fit into, and shivered under the prince's gaze.

A year or so ago, this pitiful sight would have made Vegeta sneer and laugh at the young boy's obvious fear and pain. But after seeing the hardships that Gohan had endured in his dimension, Vegeta couldn't bring himself to look upon Kakarot's son with that same countenance. He'd witnessed—in his world, anyway—the boy transform from a trembling, frightened brat to a warrior whose strength exceeded his own. It pained Vegeta to admit that last bit, but it had been Gohan who had destroyed Cell in their world. He had tried, and he had done so with every last bit of his Super Saiyan strength, yet it was Kakarot's son who had found a way dig deeper and bring out the Saiyan power and spirit needed to overcome the monster who threatened to destroy the entire universe. Where his father and the Saiyan prince had failed, Gohan had succeeded.

As Vegeta glared down at the huddled figure in front of him, it was more than obvious that this Gohan had not found that same spirit or power within him. This boy appeared roughly the same age, but his power level was far below that of his counterpart from Vegeta's dimension, and his spirit was broken along with his body.

The prince couldn't believe it, but he actually felt a twinge of pity for the young Saiyan, and that enflamed the rage he was already experiencing. He knew he should be feeling this way. This was what had made him feel weak in the first place…these stupid, detestable, irrational emotions. He wished he could just stamp them all out like a troublesome fire, but they continued to plague him. The child was merely a fragment of the Gohan he knew, and therefore, in Vegeta's eyes, he wasn't worthy of another second under the prince's gaze. The older Saiyan ripped his eyes away from the youth in the corner, and settled himself against the opposite cell wall. He leaned his head far back, so the back of his skull touched the cold stone, inhaled slowly and deeply, and closed his eyes.

It wasn't long after Vegeta had shut his eyes that he felt the gaze of his fellow prisoner settle on him and stay there. The prince's eyes slapped open, his brow furrowed, and his mouth twisted into a fearsome snarl.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, boy," he hissed angrily, "unless you want to lose the use of them too."

He watched with satisfaction as Gohan's eyes grew round with fright, and then darted away. The boy stared at the floor in front of him instead, his breathing shallow and quick. Vegeta observed, his head still leaning up against the wall, as the boy seemed to be gathering the courage to say something. He glanced again back at the prince, who increased the fire in his own stare tenfold, but this time Gohan refused to look away. Vegeta cocked an eyebrow, somewhat impressed. Perhaps this boy's spirit wasn't completely broken after all.

There was an awkward minute of silence between the two Saiyans, as each studied one another and didn't dare be the first to speak. Vegeta was growing impatient, and he was about to disregard the boy and close his eyes again in a vain attempt to try and get some sleep, when he heard Gohan clear his throat.

"What are you?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Do your eyes work as well as your broken arms? Who do I look like?"

"Like…like _him_," Gohan replied, the last word dripping with hatred. "Are you a clone or something?"

"I _am_ him," Vegeta sneered. "So you'd best watch your tongue, kid. Because we're the same goddamned person, and I'll rip it out if I hear it wagging too much."

The space between them fell silent again for a moment, before Gohan swallowed and spoke again, this time, with a trace of shaky defiance in his voice.

"If you're the same person, how come you're in _here_ and he's out _there_?"

"Because I'm a threat to him, that's goddamned why. Now shut up."

"But—"

"Listen, you insolent brat!" Vegeta screamed, his patience at an end. "I'm not in the mood for your relentless inquiries! Shut your mouth!"

Gohan's face was suddenly a flurry of subtle emotions; each seeming to touch his features just enough to become identifiable before fluttering back into the air, like a series of light, colorful butterflies. However, the words that came out of his mouth next were as rough, heavy, and miserably deliberate as bricks being thrown in Vegeta's direction.

"If you really were like him," the young Saiyan began, his red-rimmed eyes burning, "you would have hurt me already."

Vegeta's eyes widened in genuine surprise, and he felt his mouth open but no sound emerged in response to the bold declaration. Gohan's expression was as hard as his words. He wasn't as painfully oblivious as his counterpart in Vegeta's universe—he saw through the prince's volatile temperament and half-hearted threats. Again, the older Saiyan reprimanded himself for suddenly becoming so transparent. But to admit that Kakarot's brat was right in his assumptions would be another excruciating hit to Vegeta's massive pride, so he deflected the blow by pricking the boy's fragile emotional state with an insult.

"You're not even worth my time," he hissed. "Honestly, I don't even know why my counterpart didn't kill you the moment he had the chance."

Gohan's eyes grew round and wet, but his mouth finally closed. He felt silent and his eyes slide down from Vegeta's fierce snarl to the dirty floor in front of him. The boy's history was written on his face, and it was a long, torturous history that Vegeta had read over and over again every time he'd glimpsed his own reflection. This sudden realization was yet another shock thrown atop the towering heap of unexpected emotional revelations he'd had today. The boy confirmed Vegeta's musings before the prince could say anything more, but his words were no longer hard and heavy. Instead, he sounded weary and weak, as if every word was a struggle.

"I wish he _had_ killed me," Gohan whispered, a lone tear slipping down his cheek. "Then he wouldn't have been able to use me against my dad, and none of this would have happened. My family, my friends, Earth's people…they would all still be alive. It's all my fault."

The older Saiyan couldn't help but listen intently. In his world, he had next to nothing in common with Kakarot's eldest spawn, besides their Saiyan heritage. But as the realization continued to gather like a series of waves along the shores of Vegeta's awareness, he began to sieve out the distinct similarities they shared in this one. After all, the proud Saiyan prince had once been the same age, in the same situation, blaming himself for all of the same things.

He'd been the child, beaten and burdened with the genocide of an entire people weighing down on him. He'd been the boy who'd been enslaved by a tyrant and used as a tool in the manipulation and eventual demise of his father. He'd been the brat who mouthed off and was painfully punished for it. Only in this insane place, he'd evolved into a twisted version of himself, that had actually grown to mirror the tyrant Frieza—the monster who had caused him so much pain—and was now revisiting his childhood torment on Kakarot's son.

Vegeta wondered what could have happened in this world to have transformed him into the very person he'd hated with such inexorable passion his entire life. As he continued to stare at the weeping boy, he found himself wanting to ask, so he could identify the trigger that had forced their realities to split apart and become so drastically different. However, doing so would mean he'd have to push aside his pride once again. For the Saiyan prince, it was not easily done.

"Stop crying immediately," he ordered harshly. "It's a disgrace and unbefitting of a Saiyan warrior."

Gohan's eyes flickered up in surprise, but his tears ebbed. He stared at Vegeta expectedly, waiting for him to say something more. Vegeta continued, albeit uncomfortably.

"Listen carefully, kid, because I'm not going to repeat myself. I'm the same person, but I'm not from this world," he explained. "In my dimension, things transpired differently. None of this ever happened there. Now, as I'm sure you've overheard, I'm going to be fighting my counterpart from this world tomorrow night, and I intend to eliminate him. But I need to know what took place here, and how powerful he is, so I can use whatever advantages I may have in order to guarantee my victory, understand?"

Gohan sniffed. "I…I think so."

"Well, get on with it."

"I'm not sure where to start."

Vegeta felt his patience wearing thin. "Are you daft? Start from the beginning: My arrival to Earth—and be quick about it!"

The boy blinked a few times, as if struggling to process the sudden change in the older Saiyan's willingness to converse, but after a few tense, silent moments, he began to speak. Vegeta sat and listened, his eyes closed again, as he concentrated on committing every detail to his memory. Gohan's retelling of the first Saiyan attempt to conquer Earth was identical to what had taken place in Vegeta's universe, but he was simultaneously struck with nostalgia and repulsed by the experience of listening to his past deeds be dictated to him from a perspective he'd rarely considered—one of his victims. The strange combination of emotions awash in his mind bothered him more than he cared to admit. The account of the events on Planet Namek was the frustratingly unchanged as well. Vegeta was beginning to grit his teeth with exasperation when Gohan began to describe what had transpired immediately after the survivors of Namek had been wished from the doomed planet to Earth's surface, while Kakarot had remained to fight Frieza.

"We'd just found out that the planet would blow up," Gohan described, his voice becoming hoarse from his lengthy narrative. "And you…you were laughing…You said that my dad and Frieza would both die, and that you were now the strongest in the universe. You said that you'd kill or rule over everyone, and that you'd only keep me around because…because you'd need someone to polish your boots and call you 'Lord Vegeta.'"

Vegeta's eyes cracked open. He remembered that conversation, and the significance it held in the situation he was in now was sobering. Gohan continued on, lost in his train of thought.

"I attacked you, and you could have killed me right there, but Piccolo interfered and you let me go. It was only later we realized that it all was a part of your plan."

The boy glanced up to the older Saiyan, who by now had fully opened his eyes and was intensely focusing on him. Gohan fidgeted uncomfortably under the prince's gaze. Vegeta's brow furrowed as the boy hesitated.

"Well, go on. I didn't tell you to stop!" he said bluntly.

Gohan swallowed, wet his dry lips with his tongue, and continued. "You bided your time, came to live with Bulma and the Namekian survivors, and waited for us to gather the dragon balls. When we were going to make our first wish to bring our friends back to life, you made your move. You attacked us and forced Dende to make a wish for you."

"That's it," Vegeta suddenly murmured, his eyes straying off to an unoccupied corner of the cell. "That's the difference."

Gohan blinked, startled by the interruption. "What?"

"The _wish_, you fool!" Vegeta elaborated, leaning forward excitedly. "That's when _I_ became _him_."

In his world, he'd thought about doing it—it was extremely tempting—but he'd decided that he no longer wanted to achieve his goal through such duplicitous means, so he'd let the opportunity pass him by. Kakarot had achieved the ultimate power without any help, and Vegeta wanted to prove that he could do it too. Gohan glanced at him curiously.

"What was the wish?" he asked.

Vegeta scowled at the child disapprovingly. "You don't know?"

"Dende told the dragon the wish in the Namekian language, so none of us understood," Gohan's eyes darted away from Vegeta suddenly, and he hesitantly continued. "And then you—I mean _he_—killed Dende after he made the wish for him. Almost everyone I knew that day died. I never learned exactly what the wish was, I only know that none of us stood a chance when we tried to fight him."

Vegeta didn't respond; his mind was reeling with the discovery. He'd found the trigger—the point in time where one universe had split and become two, and the moment his destiny had changed forever. This entire world and its destruction had come to pass because of that decision. _His_ decision. He was personally responsible for the carnage this world had suffered.

In his world, after the events on Planet Namek he'd dismissed the temptation to snare power through a wish, thinking it a dishonorable way to achieve his goals. Instead, he'd taken the hard, higher road: He'd searched across galaxies, trained to the point of exhaustion, and nearly killed himself to gain the same power that seemed to come so easily to the lower-ranked Kakarot. However, in _this _dimension, he had made the opposite decision, and he'd used his deceitfully acquired power to take hold of the Planet Trade Organization and destroy Kakarot's home, his friends, and the life of his son.

"What did you—what did _he_—wish for?" Gohan inquired, his curious eyes focusing on the bewildered-looking prince. "Immortality?"

Vegeta slowly shook his head, glancing back at the boy. He was glad to have discovered the difference between his universe and this one, but he was also overwhelmed with the gravity of his situation. His counterpart's wish being granted made things much more complicated, skewed his initial estimation of his power, and drew faint cracks through his normally concrete confidence.

"No," he finally muttered, his voice barely audible. "Not immortality."

"Then what was it?"

"To win every conflict I came up against," Vegeta responded, a feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. "I wished that I would never be defeated ever again, by any enemy, no matter how strong."

Suddenly the tiny cell felt very cold to Vegeta, as if icy fingers had raked down his back. His throat felt as though it was coated in a layer of sand, and he swallowed hard, attempting to gulp down his growing dread with it and failing miserably. He stared at Kakarot's son, unbelieving that after all of the shock and awe he'd already suffered through today, that something like this had so suddenly and disastrously unfolded.

All of his strategizing, his manipulations, and his cunning had gone to waste. Now he understood that the extreme confidence his doppelganger had been exuding all day had not been an act, or a means to gloat incessantly while his captive was incapacitated by restraints. It was because his counterpart already knew the outcome of the fight tomorrow, because he'd guaranteed his destiny through the power of the dragon balls.

Tomorrow night, no matter how hard he'd fight the battle, no matter what tactics he'd use to outwit his opponent, and no matter how powerful he'd become, it would all be in vain.

It was predestined: Vegeta would lose.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

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**Author's Note: **_Hello, my lovely readers and reviewers! I have two pieces of news that I hope will interest you all immensely: _

**100 REVIEWS: CAN WE DO IT?**

"_Imperfect Symmetry" is has been creeping up on 100 reviews with the success of the last two chapters, and I'd love to hit that goal with this next installment! What do you think, readers? Can we exceed 100 reviews in only eight chapters? I bet we can! _

**NEW DRAGON BALL Z STORY "DIVERGENCE" JUST PUBLISHED!**

_I know, I know, it's shameless that I'm doing this. But I'm extremely excited and very proud to announce the publishing of my second Dragon Ball Z fanfic, entitled "Divergence."_

_If you've enjoyed "Imperfect Symmetry," I promise that "Divergence" will not disappoint you. Here's a short synopsis to pique your interest:_

**Divergence: (noun) deviation from something such as a typical pattern or expressed wish. The sporadic reemergence of Goku's Saiyan tendencies on Planet Namek leaves his life in sudden disarray, and triggers an irreversible chain of events that no one— even those from the future—can foresee.**

_Goku will be the primary character, but for my fellow Vegeta fans, I promise the Prince of all Saiyans will play an extremely crucial role from beginning to end. There will be other canon Saiyan characters making appearances as the narrative progresses. The story begins after the events on Planet Namek and will span through the Majin Buu saga and beyond. It will provide you with angst, angst, and more angst, as well as plenty of drama and action. Additionally, while "Imperfect Symmetry" probably only as around ten chapters left before it's completed, "Divergence" will truly be an epic—it will likely exceed 100 chapters when finished. Please check it out! _

**ONE LAST NOTE:**

_I feel it's necessary to warn everyone reading that my story takes on a slightly darker tone in this chapter. It's another long chapter though, and a lot of what happened in the alternate dimension to change the series of events is revealed, so I hope you all like it! There may be a few errors in this chapter, as I was rushed to post and skimmed it for errors instead of doing a close reading like I usually do. Sorry. _

_Also, I apologize, as I haven't been able to respond to reviews as diligently as I would have liked lately—life has been incredibly busy and it took a lot of work just to get this chapter out there within two weeks of the last update. Thanks for your patience and as always, I'm appreciative of every reader and every review I receive. Please keep them coming! Thanks!_

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**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_Age 768_

_August 9__th_

It took a moment for the boy to process the explanation of the wish that Vegeta had said his counterpart had made, but after a few silent moments, Gohan's eyebrows knitted together in worry.

"He wished to never be defeated again? So it means he can't lose?" he asked.

Vegeta was still marinating in his thoughts, but he nodded despondently. He was unsure what this sudden revelation meant for him. He suddenly felt like a rat trapped in a maze where there were no exits, desperately searching for another way out. But there were none.

"Does that mean that you're going to die?" Gohan persisted.

Vegeta looked up sharply, returning from the distant space inside his head to deliver an intense glare towards the younger Saiyan. However dismal the odds, he would find a way to escape this, and he wasn't appreciative of the boy's assumption that his death was inevitable.

"Don't be absurd," he grunted. "I'll find a way to defeat him."

"Maybe since you're from another world, the wish won't apply to you here, and you can beat him," the younger Saiyan offered hopefully.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, boy?" Vegeta narrowed his eyes and hissed, unable to help himself. "You'd like for me to take apart my evil counterpart like he did your pathetic little friends, so that this world can return to the way it used to be, before I came along? Isn't that it?"

Vegeta knew he was letting his frustration finally vent on Kakarot's son, but he couldn't take this any longer. Being trapped here with this child, while a megalomaniac, even more twisted version of himself waltzed around Earth's surface, and having to listen to the kid's hopeful suggestions was just too much for the Saiyan prince to bear. He watched the optimism drain out of the boy's expression as he continued his angry tirade.

"Don't look at me like I'm your savior," he sneered. "Because I'm the one who created this mess, remember? My only objective is only to destroy that haughty, repulsive doppelganger of mine, not save this world and make everything good again, got that? I'm not your foolish father."

Vegeta fell silent, his tumultuous emotions finally purged. He didn't even bother to look at Gohan to see how the boy had reacted to his passionate declaration. Instead, cast his gaze away and briefly considered the boy's hopeful—but foolish—hypothesis. It wasn't impossible, but the chances seemed grim.

Vegeta scowled and his mind delved deeper into the very grave situation he was in. The tiny chance that he'd be unaffected by the wish his counterpart had made, because he was from another plain of existence, was the only sliver of a chance he had. The prince wanted to reach up and rub his throbbing temples, where he felt the pulsing of his blood quickening. But his chunky shackles prevented him from doing so. Sighing in frustration, the Saiyan prince first cast his eyes down to the floor in front of him, and then out beyond the shimmering energy barrier that held him prisoner. As he mulled over his thoughts once again, he felt Gohan's stare focusing on the back of his head—again. With another snarl, he whipped around to face the gawking boy.

"What is it now?" he barked harshly.

Gohan shrunk back an inch or two, pressing his back against the wall, and winced in pain as he shifted his broken, cradled arms. Vegeta saw now that the boy had tried to make use of what he had in the cell, and had fashioned a crude, sloppy sling for each arm out of scraps of his own clothing. A twinge of pity flickered inside him again, and he ripped his gaze away from the struggling child. He hated feeling this way; it was as if he was tangled in a web of his own flurry of emotions.

His dream of universal conquest was dead. But what did he replace it with? That was what had been eating him for weeks after Kakarot's death, Vegeta decided. He no longer had a purpose, a goal to strive for. His life had become meaningless and inconsequential. How could he go on, and continue to live like that? It was unbecoming of his Saiyan upbringing to merely step aside, settle down, and convert to a miserable shell of himself. But the other road—where his destiny mirrored that of Frieza—seemed much, much worse.

Vegeta was adrift in a great, dark sea of indecision. Suddenly, Gohan's timid voice broke through the maelstrom of thoughts whirling around him.

"You mentioned my father," the boy said, his body shrunken into itself, as if anticipating another harsh reprimand from the older Saiyan. "In your world, is my father alive?"

The Saiyan prince rolled his eyes. "It's none of your concern, boy."

"Please…" Gohan pleaded, leaning forward slightly. His eyes began to brim with tears again.

Vegeta glanced sharply at the child, his heated gaze suddenly freezing over when he realized that he didn't want to tell Gohan the truth. He wouldn't relish in the child's pain; instead, he would feel more of that nagging, detestable pity tugging on his conscious. It would be much easier to lie and tell the boy that, yes, his father was still alive and well, and that everything in the world was fine and dandy. But then the Saiyan prince remembered how for years he'd been lied to about the fate of his father and the planet, and although he'd pretended that he hadn't cared in the least once he'd found out the truth, it wasn't the real story of his race's demise that had cut Vegeta so deeply. It was the fact that he'd been lied to in the first place—that everyone around him knew the truth, but didn't tell him. Even Nappa had known the truth, but had withheld it from the prince until in an angry tirade at Frieza, the Saiyan general had confessed it.

Vegeta felt his mouth twist into a vicious, angry snarl. He'd never forgiven Nappa—or anyone else—after such a sign of disrespect. How dare they assume he was too weak to handle the truth? It was an insult to his position as Prince of all Saiyans. Vegeta glanced away briefly, and then back again at Kakarot's son. He'd seen the boy's potential, witnessed his strength, and fought and defeated Cell alongside him in the dimension on the other side of the rift. The prince was even indebted to Gohan for saving his life when he'd made a stupid mistake in the throes of his passion after Trunks was killed. He had earned the older Saiyan's respect, and although this dimension's counterpart was like a broken ghost standing in the other's shadow, Vegeta would not show him the same disrespect he'd been forced to endure his entire childhood.

He would tell Gohan the truth.

"No," he began, his expression serious, but no longer muddled with anger. "Kakarot died in my world too."

Vegeta wrenched his gaze away, but he heard the audible gasp as the truth reached the boy's ears. The prince concentrated on a particularly filthy spot on the floor in front of him for the remainder of the conversation.

"The heart virus?"

Vegeta silently shook his head.

"Did…did you kill him?"

Vegeta almost laughed, though he wasn't entirely sure why he found the boy's question humorous. Perhaps it was the irony: That he'd wanted to kill Kakarot for so long, but now that he'd died through other means in two separate dimensions, Vegeta found himself reluctantly grieving the other warrior's death in his own strange, angry way. He shook his head again.

"No, it was Kakarot's fault. He killed himself."

"What?"

"He was a fool! He stupidly martyred himself, thinking he would save the world, but he utterly failed!"

Gohan fell silent for a few moments, as he struggled to digest the truth that was being slowly syphoned from the Saiyan prince. He licked his dry lips again, and then swallowed, preparing to ask another question.

"If he didn't save the world, who did?"

The younger Saiyan glanced up curiously at Vegeta, truly puzzled. There was another tense moment of silence as the prince refused to answer. Gohan prodded him with another question.

"Was it you?"

"I told you, boy! I'm no blasted hero."

"Then who?" Gohan urged, his voice rising slightly, the tone betraying his desperation for an answer. "If you didn't do it, and my dad failed too, who did it?"

Vegeta's eyes remained locked on the dirty spot on the cell floor. He imagined his pride lying there, wounded and bleeding in front of him, as he endured the boy's barrage of questions. It took an indescribable effort on the prince's part to force the next words out of his mouth, but he managed it by repeatedly telling himself that to divulge anything but the truth—the whole truth—would be just as bad as a bold-faced lie.

Finally, Vegeta ripped his eyes away from the floor, his gaze as sharp and piercing as a needle.

"It wasn't me or Kakarot that saved the world that day," he said bitterly, locking eyes with Gohan. "It was _you_."

The younger Saiyan's eyes grew slowly wider, the realization sinking in steadily. He broke their stare, shifting uncomfortably against the wall and frowning. Vegeta was perplexed by his reaction. He'd expected something—well, something more appreciative. The boy had just heard that he'd outclassed both his father and the Prince of all Saiyans, after all. However, it seemed that Gohan felt the opposite as he threw Vegeta a hateful glare.

"I was wrong," he hissed, his voice strained with anger. "You are just like _him_."

Vegeta's brow furrowed as he stared at the child. "Boy, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You're lying!" Gohan suddenly burst out, his voice echoing off of the cell's stone walls. "You're just mocking me—playing with my head—just like _he_ does! How dare you!"

Vegeta's creased brow transformed instantly into a fierce snarl, as confusion and rage mixed inside his chest to form a potent, deadly combination. The boy thought he was lying? He'd just set aside his egotism, rejected his Saiyan pride, and acknowledged that Gohan was the stronger warrior. He'd tried to show the boy some sliver of respect, as clumsily as he did it, and this was the reaction he'd earned? Vegeta felt his temper flare and felt his blood pulsing through his ears as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Gohan had reduced to a visage of hatred, grief, anger, and pain in front of the prince's eyes. He was screaming at the top of his lungs now, every word a dagger directed at the Saiyan prince.

"I hate _you_—and I hate _him_! As if watching all of my friends being beaten and killed isn't enough—you have to mock me and lie to me too?!" Kakarot's son screamed. "Why not just_ kill_ me and get it over with!?"

Something snapped inside Vegeta, and his rage suddenly flooded him, propelling him across the room towards the screaming, crying boy. The prince was unable to grasp hold of the younger Saiyan's neck due to the awkward shackles that still restrained his hands, but he compensated by slamming the heavy contraption down onto Gohan's collarbone, hoisting him up by his chin, and pinning his squirming form against the wall. The boy wriggled and choked in a vain attempt to free himself, and one of his slings came loose from his shoulder. His arm slipped from its support and hung limply, twitching sporadically as Gohan continued to struggle and kick. Eventually, Gohan's writhing lessened, and he locked eyes with the prince, who leaned in and breathed his heated sentiments into the boy's face.

"Do not _ever _compare me to that sick, twisted counterfeit of myself again, boy," Vegeta began, his voice a low and dangerous growl. "In my world, I fought alongside your father. I was his greatest rival and his strongest ally, until _you_ surpassed the both of us and my Saiyan pride and birthright was tossed aside like a bucket of trash!"

Vegeta's face twisted into a disgusted scowl as he continued. "I fought to protect Earth, and I fought alongside _you_ after Kakarot's demise. If you dare accuse me of lying about that again, I promise I'll make you regret it."

Gohan struggles ceased completely now, his body became stiff, and his eyes filled with fear. But he'd realized that Vegeta had the power to end his life and hadn't yet, so he continued to listen as the older Saiyan persisted in his outburst. It seemed to pour readily from Vegeta's tongue now, and he didn't attempt to reign in his words.

"But I won't kill you…and neither will my counterpart," the Saiyan prince explained, his eyes darkening as he was again reminded of the similar pasts that he and this Gohan shared. "And do you want to know why?"

Vegeta leaned in, so his face was mere inches away from Gohan's.

"Because you don't really want to die," he whispered knowingly. "You say you do, but the panic in your eyes betrays your words every time. That's why my counterpart keeps you alive—because he enjoys seeing that fear more than it would please him to end your pathetic life."

The Saiyan prince withdrew a few inches, his eyes narrowing as he took in one more look at the limp and helpless young warrior, and more sentiments continued to spill from his lips.

"However, _I'll_ keep you alive because I refuse to believe that Kakarot's brat has been reduced to such a wretched, weak excuse for a Saiyan warrior!"

Vegeta suddenly released his hold on the boy and took a step back from the wall. Gohan fell roughly to the ground, landing on his loose, limp arm. He cried out in pain, but the prince ignored the sound. He waited until the boy looked back up at him questioningly before he spat out his final statements.

"I couldn't care less if you hate me. I know who and what I am," the prince declared. "It's time to grow up, boy—and for _you_ to realize your full potential, instead of shivering in a cage like a sick animal. It's time to start acting like a true Saiyan."

The Saiyan prince reached down, grasped the collar of the boy's shirt, and propped him up again. Gohan winced as his loose arm knocked painfully against the stone wall, but Vegeta hardly noticed. He frowned one more time at the boy and then walked back over to his side of the cell, crouching there and brooding.

He ignored Kakarot's son for a long while; instead, he stewed in his thoughts and numerous troubles. Vegeta one again tried to analyze the situation, to find an escape route, but it was like trying to carve a tunnel through solid rock with a toothpick. For the briefest of moments, the prince even wondered if he'd die in this dimension. However, the rogue thought was quickly dispatched, and he began to desperately grab for any sliver of hope he could find.

Both he and is doppelganger had lived the first half of their lives the same, Vegeta realized, but their experiences totally differed after the events on Namek. This world's Saiyan prince hadn't seemed to have trained incessantly for three years to prepare himself for an inevitable android attack, hadn't endured two hellish years in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and hadn't faced off against Cell. In any other situation, Vegeta would easily have the upper hand, and would be looking forward to pummeling his enemy into the dirt tomorrow.

_God damn it! This would be a piece of cake if it weren't for that blasted wish,_ Vegeta seethed.

The Saiyan prince glanced back at the invisible barrier, tempted to swing his arms in an attempt to break through it again, but resisted because he didn't want to risk injury. He studied the strange force field and the mouth of the cell that it spanned. The glowing edges of the energy barrier seemed to sink right into the rock around it. Again, he wondered where such unfamiliar technology could have come from.

Vegeta dropped his eyes from the energy shield and spied a few fragments of craggy rock that had loosened from the walls of the cell. Glancing momentarily back at the force field, he awkwardly leaned down and grasped one of the rocks and turned it in his gloved hand. The prince gazed back at the invisible barrier again, and then with a flick of his wrist, flung the rock towards it. He watched as the barrier sizzled for a moment, while the rock passed easily through the thin layer of energy and landed with a plunk on the floor on the opposite side. Vegeta glared at it, wondering if there was a way he could trick the barrier into thinking he was something other than himself or the boy. Slowly, he lifted his hands, feeling the muscles in his arms and chest grow taut with the weight of the contraption that restrained him, his fingers growing closer and closer to the field, waiting to feel it snap his limbs back at him.

"Don't touch it!" Gohan suddenly shouted in warning. "After the third time you touch it, it shocks you!"

Vegeta immediately whipped his head around towards the boy and snarled. He was quite sick of hearing Kakarot's brat's voice, but retracted his hands the same, clunking down his restraints on the floor in frustration.

"What do you know about Planet Trade technology, anyway?" he growled unhappily, even though he too knew nothing about how the barrier was built or worked.

Gohan's eyes traced the edges of the field of energy holding both of the Saiyans in their tiny cell. "It's not Planet Trade technology; Bulma designed energy fields to keep the Planet Trade out! But Vege—I mean _he_—corrupted it."

The mention of Bulma's name sent a powerful, pain-filled jolt through the Saiyan prince's heart, and he felt a sharp intake of breath fill his bruised lungs. He glanced with widened eyes at the shield of energy that trapped him. Of course, it had to have been Bulma—only she could come up with an invention as ingenious and inescapable as an energy barrier that could be coded to accept or reject one's DNA. But did the use of her technology in a Planet Trade compound mean that Bulma was still alive? Vegeta couldn't be sure. His counterpart upstairs hadn't made any mention of her specifically, so he'd assumed that she was most likely killed in the onslaught and overtaking of the planet. The lingering guilt and deep-seeded pain bloomed inside him again, and the prince clenched his teeth in his despair. How could he continue on without being sure? Vegeta felt all hostility melt away from his expression, and it was swiftly replaced with an apathetic mask as he turned towards Gohan for the answer.

"What happened?" he asked, his inquiry purposely vague.

Gohan shifted his position against the opposite wall, wincing again as he slowly pulled his loose, crookedly bent arm back up into his lap. His eyes momentarily narrowed in suspicion as he gazed at the older Saiyan warrior, but then his expression seemed overtaken by a heavy sadness, and he looked way towards a spot on the floor in front of him. He was silent for a few long moments, before taking a deep breath through his teeth and hesitantly beginning to speak.

"After he—our world's Vegeta—made the wish, he killed Dende, the other Namekians, and Piccolo—so there were no more dragon balls to grant wishes. Bulma and I barely managed to get away and hide," Gohan confessed, each word as heavy as a stone. "Then he stole one of the Capsule Corp ships and disappeared for a long time, but there was nothing we could do to bring back our friends…"

Vegeta wrenched his eyes away from the child, but heard the boy choke back a sob, even as he continued. As the prince listened, he felt a disturbing shift taking place inside him. Gohan's tale was nearly identical to the destruction, pain, and horror he'd inflicted on countless other planets. Back then he'd felt a sadistic sense of glee whenever he had the chance to destroy those weaker than him, but now that same destruction struck other chords within the Saiyan prince's conscious. Even as Kakarot's boy continued his narrative, Vegeta began to realize that he'd grown disgusted with his former self.

"My dad came back while he was gone. We trained and Bulma created the energy barrier technology and with the plan to put up a shield around each major city in case he returned. We thought we'd be safe, but we were wrong," Gohan said, his brow furrowing in his frustration. "He came back, and this time with an entire army of Planet Trade soldiers. My dad fought him when he returned, and even as a Super Saiyan, he was no match for him. Everything he threw at Vegeta had no effect at all! It was because of the wish. My dad barely got out of that first fight alive."

Another one of Vegeta's dreams—to defeat Kakarot in battle—was tainted by the same sickening feeling that struck him when he thought about his past as a slayer of entire civilizations. Still, Gohan carried on, his voice growing more and more strained with pain with each word.

"While my dad was recovering, the Planet Trade didn't attack like we'd expected. Instead, they set up camp just outside the city barriers and just waited for the people inside to starve. It didn't take long, and soon people were desperate. They began to think that they might be spared if they surrendered. They should have listened to us! The barriers would have held, but people had run out of food…and hope. So they shut them down, thinking they would be shown mercy."

_Mercy…_ Vegeta used to laugh every time one of his victims begged for such a thing.

"After the barriers went down, it was over. The major cities were gone within minutes, and in the chaos, my mom…" There was another pause, and another pitiful, pain-filled sob. "My mom was killed and I was caught in the first assault. Vegeta kept me alive thinking that he could bait my father to come and face him one final time. But—but my dad never came."

Vegeta's eyes flickered up to the broken child in the corner as he paused his tale to take yet another shaky breath. What Gohan had just described didn't sound like the Kakarot he knew; the other full-blooded Saiyan warrior would have died himself before he'd let his child live under the boot of his tyrannical enemy.

Gohan began again, a lonely, glistening tear spilling down his cheek. "I was his prisoner for weeks, but my father never came to challenge him or rescue me. Then, one night I managed to escape from the soldiers that guarded me. I thought I'd just gotten lucky, but it was a trick! He'd planned the entire thing—he knew I'd find the remaining Earthling resistance—and I let him right to them! And that's when I found out that my dad never came…because he was already—already…"

Gohan's words trailed off, his words no longer needed to communicate what had happened to Kakarot. Vegeta remained silent, his eyes staring at the blank wall across from him as he let the information sink in. The boy choked back another sob, bit his lip so hard that he drew blood, and pressed on.

"The heart virus had—had already gotten him by the time I found the resistance. They found us—took everyone prisoner…" The boy had considerable difficulty forcing out the next few sentences. "…and then he killed them in front of me. And I couldn't do anything to stop him!"

Vegeta heard the boy suck in a deep breath as he ended his tragic tale, but inside his head there was still a turbulent flurry of emotion that the prince didn't know how to control. So that was how it happened: Yet another world, and yet another race of people completely obliterated at his hand. It was no different than any world he'd conquered in his past. However, one question still pricked at his skin like a needle. Finally, he abandoned his pride one more time and focused a penetrating glare at Gohan.

"What of the woman?" Vegeta barked harshly. "Was she killed?"

Gohan's pallid face raised up to meet his gaze with a surprised stare. "Bulma?"

"Goddamn it, boy! Who else would I be referring to?" Vegeta fumed.

On the outside, the Saiyan prince seemed furious and unbearably impatient with the child's long-winded story, but inside he felt like he was slowly shrinking into himself. Vegeta realized that he was terrified to know the answer Gohan might give him, but being left without an answer was the worst torture he could conceive at this moment. The Saiyan prince had to know, even if the response to his question would shatter him.

Gohan seemed to sense Vegeta's inner turmoil, and he hesitated in answering for a few moments; however, mere moments were too much for the prince to bear any longer. Finally, the older Saiyan warrior let out a scream of frustration rip through him.

"Tell me! NOW!" the prince shouted, his last word bounced wildly in the small space and made Kakarot's brat nearly jump out of his skin at the sound of it.

"She's GONE!" Gohan screamed back, his mouth snapping shut and his chin quivering as soon as the words escaped his lips. "He killed her too!"

Vegeta felt the words stab into him, each as terrible and gut-wrenching as someone twisting a knife in his stomach. It was the answer that he had anticipated, and tried to prepare himself for over the boy's last lingering moments of silence, but even that would have made no difference. He felt a sudden pang of nausea come over him, but he struggled against it and swallowed, his mouth tasting of bile and blood. The Saiyan prince closed his eyes, slowly allowed the boy's words to take resonance inside him, and then took a few heaving gulps of air to clear his head of the horror.

Before his eyes opened again, Vegeta heard footsteps echoing down the hall towards the cell, and sensed a few weak power levels approaching. He blinked his eyes open to see Gohan frantically wiping his face free of tears, and then turned his head to see two alien soldiers standing outside the cell with wicked smirks on their faces. Vegeta glared defiantly at them, but they ignored him; instead, they were narrowing their sights on the smaller of the two imprisoned Saiyans.

"We're here for you, boy," one of the aliens said, his voice echoing in the stone corridor. "Lord Vegeta says it's to the medical bay with you, to get your arms healed."

Vegeta's eyes flickered to Gohan, and their eyes met for an instant. The younger Saiyan was confused, frightened, and obviously reluctant to move. Judging from his reaction, the prince determined that this wasn't part of the usual routine—some hidden agenda was being initiated by his vile counterpart upstairs. He watched with silence as the guards punched in a code into the keypad on the outside wall of the cell.

"Come on, kid," the same alien order. "Don't make us come in there and get you, or it will be much more than your arms that require healing."

Gohan's eyes darted back towards Vegeta for a moment, but the prince had put on an emotionless mask as soon as the guards had appeared and only offered him a stoic, indifferent glance. The boy swallowed hard, and then with some difficulty stood up and moved towards the barrier. Vegeta watched as the boy stopped just short of the invisible field of energy, hesitating, and shared one last unsure look with the older Saiyan. Then Gohan stepped forward through the barrier, which accepted his DNA and snapped back into place as soon as he was cleared of it. Immediately, two of the aliens roughly grabbed the boy by the shoulders and secured a set of chunky restraints similar to Vegeta's on the boy's mangled arms. Gohan let out a small whimper of pain as the weight of the cuffs yanked agonizingly down on his already shattered bones and bruised flesh. Vegeta looked away, focusing his intense gaze back at the blank wall of the cell where the younger Saiyan had sat only moments before.

Vegeta felt the strange impulse to say something—to Gohan, the guards, somebody—but he neither had the capacity to formulate words and sentences or to speak them at the moment. His head was swimming with a multitude of emotions that left his mind feeling bruised and battered, even as he felt his own body slowly healing itself. He was still trying to find his way out of the foggy, pain-filled haze that had suddenly engulfed him after hearing that Bulma—this universe's Bulma—had been killed by his own hands.

Outside the energy barrier, there were no more words exchanged between the alien soldiers and Gohan. The aliens pivoted on their heels and led their young prisoner away from the cell. Vegeta heard their footsteps gradually diminish into nothingness. Even the echoes disappeared into the sudden silence that descended on the Saiyan prince.

After what seemed like a long time, Vegeta finally regained some sense of clarity, and he continued to remind himself of one thing: That it was not _his_ Bulma that was gone. It was not _his_ Bulma that had been killed by his doppelganger's hand. As far as the Saiyan prince knew, his Bulma and Trunks were still safe and alive in his home dimension, being looked after by their many friends and allies, and she was probably worried sick about him by now.

Somehow, even knowing that didn't bring Vegeta any comfort. The Saiyan prince closed his eyes again, leaned back his head against the rough stone walls of the cell, and tried to will himself to sleep.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! The next chapter will mark the beginning of the epic battle between the two Vegetas! Please remember to review!_

_~Rose_


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's Note: **

_Well folks, the school year is beginning again. That being said, I think it's fair to assume that my updates will not be as frequent. I've got a goal of posting at least one new chapter for either of my two Dragon Ball Z fanfics ("Imperfect Symmetry" and "Divergence") every two weeks, but that is an optimistic target, not something set in stone. _

_Also, if you haven't already, please check you my newest Dragon Ball Z story: "Divergence." Goku's the main character, it's going to be epic, and the second chapter was just published! _

___That being said, I hope you enjoy the latest installment of "Imperfect Symmetry"!_

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_Age 768_

_August __10__th_

When Vegeta awoke, his body slumped up sloppily against the stone walls of his prison, he felt amazingly more fatigued than he had been before slumber had finally gripped him. What should have been hours of restful, restorative sleep had been plagued with nightmares.

There had been many of them, but most of them revolved around the same thing: Bulma's death in this twisted, backwards universe. His subconscious had strung together various, horrible ways that she could have met her end at the hands of his counterpart, and then forced the Saiyan prince to experience each one in succession. The last dream in the terrifying sequence was the one that plunged Vegeta from his slumber back into the world of the living, and it was by far the most disturbing one.

In his last dream, it had been _him_ who'd killed Bulma. His own hands and slowly wrung her neck until the vibrant, vivacious woman he knew had become nothing more than a pale, wide-eyed ragdoll in his hands.

Despite having experienced death himself and having personally massacred millions of innocents, the Saiyan prince was deeply shaken by the scenario his subconscious had presented him. His fears suddenly existed on a plain far too vast and expansive to bury them under a heavy load of arrogance and pride, like he'd done his entire life. Instead, Vegeta forced himself to distraction by attempting to mentally and physically prepare for the monumental battle he knew would be facing him this day.

He was restricted by the chucky, energy-depleting shackles from practicing any kind of punches or jabs, but over the past few hours he'd been learning to regain his balance with the troublesome contraption and was busily kicking into the air. Vegeta had even forgone Gohan's earlier warning and delivered a few kicks to the energy barrier that blocked his way to freedom. Sure enough, the force field had given his body a brief, but intense shock that grounded him for a moment, but that was it. It seemed like Bulma's ingenious invention had no more hidden features.

The thought of her made the stinging grief inside Vegeta's heart flare momentarily, but with difficulty he pushed it back down into the depths and continued to visualize his counterpart's face being smashed violently into the cavity of his skull with each kick he delivered into the air. He was careful to conserve what little energy his restraints allowed him, only using what was necessary to effectively warm up his muscles. Then he rested, and contemplated the ridiculous disaster he'd gotten himself into for the millionth time.

Today, he would meet his ultimate challenge. He would fight against an alternate, twisted version of himself from another world. The Saiyan prince couldn't lie to himself: He had been waiting for this, longing for the opportunity to shed some blood, despite the knowledge that he was destined to lose the fight because of his counterpart's cowardly wish. Vegeta grimaced as he thought of the utter inescapability of his situation. Once again, he'd analyzed, scrutinized, and strategized as much as he could about the impending scenario, but there seemed to be no way out.

_No matter,_ the prince thought bitterly._ Nothing matters anymore._

Vegeta had always known he'd meet his end on the battlefield. He'd died once that way already. He'd just never thought he'd be fighting against himself. Again, the Saiyan prince reminded himself that the unusual circumstances did not matter. He'd do his best to prepare for this fight just as he had any other in his lifetime. There was a flurry of dust flung into the air as he swept his right leg forward in another powerful kick, this time imagining his counterpart's neck being crushed by the force of the blow. It was not important that he was predestined to lose to the bastardized version of himself from this universe, the prince decided. If that was indeed so, then there was no changing or challenging it.

But Vegeta had resolved to give both destiny and his counterpart a fight so spectacular that the higher powers in this world and the next would remember his name for countless eons to come.

As expected, the passage of time in his tiny cell was unbearably slow. The hours crawled lazily along while Vegeta continued his persistent attempts to occupy his mind with the impending battle, so that his fears wouldn't surface like they had in his dreams. Finally, just as he thought he was about to burst with the anticipation of it all, he heard the familiar sound of echoing of footsteps down the hall.

There was a group of a dozen or so alien soldiers approaching his cell, marching uniformly behind their captain. Vegeta threw his most unpleasant scowl at them as they halted in front of the energy barrier and sneered at the captive Saiyan.

"It's time to die," the lead alien hissed gleefully. "I hope you're ready."

Vegeta said nothing in response. He couldn't help thinking that these soldiers that followed and feared his counterpart so intensely were secretly thrilled to watch an alternate version of their sadistic master be brutally killed in battle. He glared back at the armored aliens, surveying each one for any signs of weakness. Their power levels were dismal compared to his, of course, but he was incapacitated by his restraints. It had taken only two soldiers to drag him around the corridors of the building before, and now his counterpart had sent six times that amount. It was evident that an escape attempt was anticipated, and that the identical Saiyan upstairs was taking no chances with his prisoner.

The lead soldier punched in a code in the keypad on the wall outside of the cell, and then several of his men stepped forward through the barrier to take hold of the Saiyan prince. Vegeta did not resist. To struggle now would imply that he was frightened of the future battle, and he would not give these weaklings the pleasure. The hands of the soldiers roughly pressed him forward, and once again, Vegeta felt the odd sensation of the energy barrier warping around him and snapping back into place as it accepted his genetic code and allowed his passage through.

Vegeta and the dozen soldiers flanking him marched down the underground passage, up several flights of stairs, before they were once again in a seemingly endless maze of pristine white corridors. The soldiers yanked the Saiyan prince this way and that as they walked on, and he did not struggle. His mind was occupied with thoughts of the battle ahead.

Finally, after several minutes of weaving this way and that, Vegeta and the soldiers escorting him stepped out a doorway and under the blue sky. Once again, the prince was able to see the absolute destruction that his counterpart had inflicted upon the planet and its inhabitants. The stench of death hung heavily in the air, dust whipped on the breeze, and everywhere the Saiyan looked his eyes were met with complete devastation. He tried to ignore the images ripped straight from his nightmare as they flashed suddenly in his mind. The prince could not afford to be distracted at this crucial moment; he needed to be acutely alert and intensely focused.

The alien soldiers dragged him forward, and for the first time Vegeta noticed something new added to the ruined landscape: A massive, transparent dome rose up from the ground a few hundred meters away. There was already an impressive collection of soldiers surrounding its base—no doubt they were there to witness their master assassinate the captive imposter. His captors were shoving him towards the dome, and he suddenly recognized the shimmering, barely visible surface as another energy barrier.

As they got closer, the sheer size of the dome created for the spectacle became apparent. It was colossal; its height diameter hundreds of meters wide. The Saiyan prince raised his eyes to marvel at the expansiveness of this makeshift arena. Satisfied with the vast space it provided for him and his counterpart to fight, the Saiyan prince glanced around, his eyes surveying the crowd for his own form. But he saw no sign of the twisted, counterfeit Lord Vegeta amongst the jostling bodies.

Finally, Vegeta and the dozen warriors escorting him reached the edge of the massive energy dome. The crowd parted before them, like two parts of a vast sea, and the prince was met with a barrage of sneers and whispered insults from many of the soldiers. He ignored them; they were only spectators here to watch the two superpowers clash, they were inferior to him, and their opinion mattered less to him than the dirt under his heels. He paused his steady march and once again scanned the crowds for his alternate-dimension twin, but again, he saw no one. He felt a sharp jab in his back as one of the soldiers behind him shoved him, prompting him to move forward once again.

"Get a move on, prisoner! Lord Vegeta's been waiting very patiently!" the soldier behind him shouted along with another, harder jab.

_Yes, but where is the bastard? _Vegeta thought, ignoring the soldier's orders and narrowing his eyes towards the horizon.

Failing once again to spot his doppelganger, the Saiyan prince stepped forward, passing through the barrier with his multiple captors. One of them—a tall, blue alien with spindly fingers—stepped in front of him.

"Raise your arms," he commanded, and Vegeta compliantly did so.

Inside his head, a part of his consciousness was raging with the anticipation of this moment. As he intently watched, the alien's thin, spider-like fingers tapped a quick code on the tiny keypad that adorned the cumbersome restraints clamped around his forearms. A series of clicks emitted from the device before it popped open, releasing Vegeta's arms, and flooding his body with the waves of fresh energy that had been denied to him for the past 24 hours. The Saiyan prince glanced up, gave the alien a wicked smile, and was satisfied to see a fearful expression return to the soldier's countenance.

A millisecond later, Vegeta whipped up his hand and fired a relatively small energy blast—by his standards, anyway—right into the alien's face. The creature was instantly incinerated, and in a flash the prince spun around and aimed his next projectiles at the few, foolish soldiers who had also followed him through the barrier. They barely had time to turn to run to safety before they met the same fate as their blue comrade. A roar of shocked protests erupted from the surrounding crowd of soldiers outside of the dome's limits, but none of them stepped forward and into the ring to avenge their friends. Vegeta licked his lips and sneered at them, and then he heard a familiar evil laugh—his own—echo towards him from afar and above the roar of the soldiers.

Vegeta spun around and he finally spotted his doppelganger, hundreds of meters away from him, across the expansive dome.

"Welcome," Lord Vegeta sneered mockingly. "I see you're eager to get this underway. I've been looking forward to it myself."

Vegeta stared towards his doppelganger with confusion. There was another person inside the dome with him, fully decorated in new Saiyan armor, but that person was not Lord Vegeta. His counterpart was beyond the energy barrier, seated comfortably in an elevated, throne-like chair. One of his elbows was leaning on the arm of the chair, propping up his head as though he was bored, and a sickening, self-assured smirk adorned his face.

"Of course, before the main event, I've promised my men a preliminary match," Lord Vegeta continued, his words punctuated with unmasked cruelty. "It should prove a sufficient warm-up for you."

Vegeta's eyes darted from his sneering counterpart, to the person accompanying him in the gigantic dome, and back again. He felt the constant fire of anger encased in his chest begin to flare dangerously, threatening to consume him.

"How dare you?!" he cried with a fierce snarl. "This was not our deal!"

Lord Vegeta's grin twisted wider across his face, and his tone became cold and slick, like a snake slithering towards its unsuspecting prey. "My dimension, my rules," he snickered. "The victor of this fight will win the privilege to challenge me in combat."

Vegeta struggled to find a response, but he was so frustrated and angry that had he opened his mouth, the only sound that would come out would have been an animalistic scream. He once again glanced in the direction of his unanticipated opponent, suddenly and surprisingly unwilling to carry on with this revolting charade that his doppelganger had set up. A fearful face framed by a mess of shaggy black hair and equally dark eyes blinked back at him.

_Kakarot's kid again,_ Vegeta thought, baffled. _Why does he want me to fight Gohan? _

The Saiyan prince stared at the child as he shakily raised his newly-healed arms into a fighting stance. Vegeta could practically see the massive lump of dread forming in the young Saiyan's throat. Vegeta whipped his head back around to face his doppelganger.

"And if I refuse, what then?" the captive prince inquired with a scowl. "I will not lower myself to fighting a half-breed child!"

The two identical Saiyans locked eyes, and the air between them heated almost instantaneously. Vegeta's mouth twisted into a fierce snarl, while his counterpart's grin only grew wider as he continued.

"You will remain inside the dome until either you or Kakarot's brat is defeated in combat," Lord Vegeta replied with a sinister tone.

A blast of energy burst from Vegeta's skin and propelled him from one end of the massive arena to the other in an instant. He passed by a bewildered Gohan, stomped angrily over to the barrier, and stared his opponent in the face, his teeth bared like that of a raging animal. The Saiyan prince had been waiting all night and day for this contest, and he would not be made to wait a minute longer.

"Stop this ridiculous stalling!" he hissed through his clenched jaws. "You promised me a fight—between just you and me! Are you too cowardly to face me right out?"

A glimmer of fury appeared in his counterpart's eyes. "Are _you_ too cowardly to face a child?"

Vegeta felt his muscles tense and his blood begin to boil in his veins. Suddenly, even the way his counterpart gazed at him reminded him sickeningly of the Arcosian tyrant that had enslaved him—and that he had vehemently hated—for his entire life. He hadn't thought it was possible, but Saiyan prince felt even more disgust and loathing leak into his core, poisoning his mind and heart with a darkness he'd not experienced in a long time. Along with his sudden rush of hatred, an unexpected revelation sucked Vegeta momentarily away from reality.

He and his counterpart were not entirely different—he'd known that since the moment they'd first met. They were the same person, but their destinies had taken drastically different paths, and shaped them into different distortions of the same mold. In his smirking doppelganger, Vegeta saw own worst qualities irrefutably illuminated, and he couldn't deny his disgust and loathing for what he saw. Undoubtedly, his double felt the exact same way about him, but for different reasons.

Despite this fresh, new understanding, it didn't stop the Saiyan prince from wanting more than anything to scatter his doppelganger's blood and brains like rain. He wanted to crush the bones of this twisted counterpart with his fists until nothing remained. He needed to destroy every bit of evidence that this version of himself had existed, in this universe and in every other.

But the identical Saiyan's wish for infinite, undeniable victory, despite the strength of his enemies, would almost certainly eradicate Vegeta's chances of any such thing occurring today. Suddenly, is doppelganger's voice snapped the Saiyan prince back from his violent, whirling thoughts. Lord Vegeta's tone was shrewd and slick, like a snake slithering towards its prey.

"I fear nothing," he hissed. "Least of all you."

"That's a lie!" Vegeta shouted, completely furious. "You fear _defeat_—why else would you have made such a cowardly wish?!"

Lord Vegeta suddenly shot up out of his chair, and for a moment it looked as if he were going to spring across the energy barrier and throw his double a vicious punch in retaliation. However, at the last instant, he seemed to reign in his volatile temper, though his hands continued to clench so tightly that his fingernails dug into the meaty palms of his hands, spotting his pristine white gloves with spots of blood. As Vegeta stood and glared wrathfully back at his counterpart, the sea of soldiers surrounding the dome erupted into a flurry of hushed whispers. Everywhere the Saiyan prince's eyes wandered, heads were dipping in succession, hands were swiftly whipped up to cover their mouths, and eyes were flicking between the two identical Saiyan warriors with suspicion. Finally, Lord Vegeta licked his lips, and then pushed out a few more potent, poisonous words.

"I will make certain that your last moments in this universe will be so full of anguish that even you will beg me for the end," he hissed, his words as sharp and precise as daggers being thrown through the air. "That is a promise. But you _will_ fight the boy first. Either that, or you will both stay within the dome until you waste away to dust, and neither one of you weaklings will be my concern any longer."

With that, Lord Vegeta sat promptly back down, crossed his arms, and continued to glower at his captive counterpart. Vegeta was once again left feeling like a trapped animal, and the fury that flooded through him was immensely difficult to contain. He wanted to explode in a massive storm of energy, but with the barrier surrounding him, even a transformation into a Super Saiyan would not harm his insufferable counterpart. It would only waste the stores of power he needed for the battle ahead.

He sucked in a heated breath and exhaled in a huff, ripping his gaze away from the identical Saiyan reclining in this throne. His eyes circled around the rim of the barrier surrounding him—trapping him—and the mass of bodies that stood just outside his reach. Finally, his sight settled on the younger Saiyan who was imprisoned within the huge dome along with him.

It seemed he had no choice but to conform to his doppelganger's commands. The sooner he struck down Kakarot's brat, the sooner he would get what he wanted.

_Fine,_ Vegeta thought as he crouched and felt his muscles and tendons tighten as he prepared to spring forward towards the boy. _Let's make this quick._

Gohan had only a millisecond to react before the Saiyan prince leaped into the air and appeared suddenly in front of him. To his credit, he managed to shield his face from Vegeta's first mighty blow with his forearms, but the second blow found its intended target. The older Saiyan jabbed his left fist forward at unimaginable speed and dug his knuckles into the soft flesh of the boy's belly. Gohan immediately spat out a stream of saliva and flew backwards into the ground, his body colliding with the rock and dirt to form a trench before he finally skidded to a stop.

The prince's third blow would be the finisher. His aura flared around him, propelling him above the ground, before he rocketed downwards again towards the writhing body of Kakarot's son. His right fist, solid as a hunk of concrete, connected cleanly with the child's jaw. The crunch of teeth being demolished was succeeded by a spurt of bright red blood that spattered the ground next to Gohan's head.

Vegeta leveled himself and landed next to the now unmoving body, not happy with himself, but satisfied with the situation. Gohan's still, twisted frame was scraped and covered in dirt, half of his face was smeared in his own blood, and his jaw was probably broken, but the boy's chest rose and fell in a steady, uninterrupted rhythm. He was unconscious, but not dead. Vegeta had incapacitated him in three lightning-quick moves. The prince whirled his head around towards his doppelganger, expecting to meet his approval and to finally get to combat a worthy opponent. However, his gaze was met with a foul glare that clearly communicated his counterpart was unhappy with such a quick end to the so-called "preliminary."

"It's done," he announced, sweeping his hand towards the limp body next to him. "The boy is defe—"

Suddenly, Vegeta's words were cut off by an unexpected movement. Gohan's eyelids fluttered open, he groaned in pain, and then the boy began to attempt to lift himself up. The Saiyan prince took a step back, aghast that the younger Saiyan had recovered from such a pin-point, powerful attack so quickly. But Gohan wasn't yet down for the count. He shifted his now-bruised arms and began to sit up, curling his legs under his torso, and shakily stood up and poised himself for another attack. Vegeta was stunned. If he'd turned around and gazed towards the opposite end of the arena, he would have seen his doppelganger's wicked smirk slowly reappear.

"What are you doing?!" the Saiyan prince hissed through tightly clenched teeth. "Stay down, you fool!"

The battered and bloody boy granted Vegeta a half-smile wrought with pain. "You're the one who told me that it was time for me to realize my true potential."

"You idiot! Now is not the time for that!" the older Saiyan countered. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Vegeta was startled when the younger, battered warrior made a swift move, flipping into midair and swinging his right leg downward in a rapid arch aimed right for the prince's head. However, the older Saiyan was much faster; he easily batted the attack away, and then delivered a painful back-handed slap to the boy's face that sent him flying across the arena. Vegeta's aura blasted around him and he sailed through the air and landed next to Gohan, just as the child collided landed in the dirt in a bloody heap.

"I said to stay down, kid," the prince commanded, "unless you want me to start breaking you down piece by piece."

"I'm—I'm not giving up," Gohan sputtered, even as a gob of blood and saliva spilled from his lips and he struggled once again to find his footing. "My father would've never given up. He'd keep fighting, like a true Saiyan."

Vegeta grimaced, recalling the passionate words that had spilled heavily from his mouth yesterday when the two warriors had shared a cell. Refusing to stop fighting was in fact the Saiyan way, and to die in battle was the only death befitting a warrior. However, the Saiyan prince hadn't thought that Kakarot's brat would take his words to heart with such immediacy. As the boy staggered towards him again, blood spilling from a gash that had opened across the bone on his reddened cheek, Vegeta felt a cold, disturbing feeling slip into his insides. He couldn't help feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

"Goddamn it, boy!" the Saiyan prince cried as his knee shot up at ridiculous speed and caught the boy in the gut. "Stop this nonsense! Stand down and acknowledge your defeat!"

There was the sound of cracking ribs and another spurt of blood and saliva escaped the boy's mouth as he was thrown a dozen meters into the air and then toppled back into the dust. Once more, the young warrior shakily returned to his feet, but this time, his eyes flickered with a sudden fire. The Saiyan prince recognized that dim flame that burned with the younger warrior's eyes—it was the same fire sparked from within that had kept him alive despite the countless hardships he'd endured in his life. This blaze was just beginning to ignite inside Kakarot's son, and with it Vegeta felt the boy's minute power level begin to spike, increasing with each breath the child took.

"No," Gohan whispered defiantly.

Again, the boy came at Vegeta, but his attacks were slow, clumsy, and no match for the older Saiyan's superior abilities. Again, Vegeta swatted away Gohan's frenzied, desperate kicks and punches as if he were warding off a group of troublesome mosquitos.

"You're even more of a blasted fool than your useless clown of a father!" he shouted angrily, drawing back his hand in preparation to deliver yet another massive blow to the youngster's face. "I won't repeat myself again! Stay down!"

"My father was not a clown!" Gohan screamed as he staggered backwards, and it became abundantly clear he was no longer distinguishing between the Saiyan prince he saw before him and his identical counterpart that was reclined on a throne just beyond the arena's barriers. "He was a great man! And you're not even half of the man he was!"

Vegeta felt a sneer tug up on his lips. "That may be true," he admitted. "But I'm ten times the warrior!"

A massive burst of energy suddenly exploded from the Saiyan prince's form, blowing back across the expanse of the ring. Vegeta began to advance on the younger warrior, but Gohan stood his ground. The prince smirked, crossed his arms, and regarded Kakarot's boy.

"Your attempts at bravery are admirable, boy" he complimented. "But you have no chance against me, and you know it. Give up now, or I'll be forced to hurt you."

"No!" Gohan again refused. "I will _not_ stand down. Not anymore! NEVER AGAIN!"

It was then that the child's power level abruptly shot up to tremendous heights, and Vegeta finally recognized the sudden, unexpected transformation taking place inside of Gohan. A combination of intense emotions had collected inside the boy and had caused a volatile reaction that was flooding through his entire body, unleashing waves of fresh new energy. The Saiyan prince cursed under his breath as Kakarot's son's aura began to flicker a brilliant, golden hue.

Gohan was turning into a Super Saiyan—for the first time—right before his eyes.


End file.
